


Uncertainty

by Jaiden_S



Series: Unknown [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the search for the Winter Soldier, Steve feels useless until he discovers a connection to Bucky that’s stronger than friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Useless

**Author's Note:**

> Author: Jaiden S  
> Fandom: Captain America, Marvel Movie Universe  
> Beta - Alex_cat  
> Characters: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Maria Hill  
> Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
> Timeline: Two days after the events of “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”
> 
> Notes: Spoilers from Marvel:Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  
> This is my first story in the Marvel universe. If you choose to throw things at me, aim low. I'm short.

Mornings were usually Steve’s favorite part of the day. The whole day stretched out in front of him, full of promise like a blank canvas awaiting an artist’s first stroke of color. He woke with the sun and greeted it with a smile. But not this morning. All night long he had tossed and turned and fretted and grumped and stared at the shadowed ceiling for long stretches. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he rolled over and gave the dusty alarm clock on the bedside table a forlorn look. It flashed a frustrating 4:07 a.m. At that point, he gave up.

He dressed in his running clothes and crept out the back door of Sam Wilson’s little house, tiptoeing across the lawn and into the street. Not a sound could be heard save the hum of the streetlights and a dog barking a few streets over. Gingerly, he took a few tentative steps, then eased into a slow jog. A sharp pain stitched in his side, but he focused on his breathing and it eased. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In. Out. In time with the soft thump of his trainers on the asphalt. He let his mind go completely blank. That worked well…for about fifteen minutes.

Three days ago, he’d been lying in the ICU, hooked up to more electronics than a Best Buy showroom. He probably shouldn’t be running- he knew that- but he couldn’t continue to sit around and do nothing. The waiting grated on him, shaving his nerves to a frayed mess, scrambling his logic and emotions until he had control of neither. The steady pace of his jog helped a bit and gave him something to focus on instead of the events of the past few weeks. He stopped, winded, and rested his hands on his knees. He’d been running for half an hour now. Time to turn back.

~*~

Steve squinted at the microwave. It was supposed to be easy, but this particular stainless steel contraption looked more menacing than the automaton he had accidentally unleashed in Tony Stark’s workroom. He punched a button. Nothing. Why couldn’t all microwaves work the same? He grimaced, determined, and started over.

“Cook.” _beep_ “Time” _beepbeepbeep_ “Power level” _beepbeep_ “Start.”

The microwave ran for three full seconds this time, and then chimed nosily. Crap.

“Hey, what are you trying to cook?” Sam padded barefoot into the kitchen, checked the gurgling coffee pot, and peered over Steve’s shoulder at the half-frozen biscuit still in the microwave.

Steve sighed. “Trying to heat a breakfast sandwich without bothering you. Sorry. Looks like I did a poor job.” He nodded toward the coffee pot. “But I did figure out the coffee.”

Sam grinned and gave Steve’s bicep a pat. “It’s nice to know there is something you can’t do.” He leaned past Steve and pointed. “You push cook, then time, then cook again THEN press your power level and start.”

“Oh.”

“No worries. You’ll get the hang of it. Hell, it took me a week to figure it out and you’ve only been here two days.”

Two days. Two days since Romanoff left and Fury disappeared into thin air. Two days of tracking the Winter Soldier, otherwise known as his best friend Bucky Barnes. Two days of feeling utterly useless.

Steve took the biscuit and a cup of coffee to the sofa in the den where Sam sat hunched over a laptop. “Aren’t you having breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Sam hoisted his coffee cup in Steve’s general direction. “’Breakfast of champions’ right here.” His eyes never left the screen. 

Steve turned back to his breakfast, such that it was, and forced down a few bites. He didn’t know who Jimmy Dean was, but his breakfast sandwiches left a lot to be desired. House crashers can’t be choosy, though, and he was grateful for a place to stay. 

The decision to remain at Sam’s house just south of D.C. came after lots of careful consideration and a very thorough bug sweep. Hydra most certainly knew where they were, a fact that greatly concerned Steve until Sam made a very good point: Hydra needed the public to trust them in order to operate. “They won’t do shit. Killing Captain America would be a PR nightmare.” 

“Hey, come here. My friend Garrett over in special ops thinks there may be a lead on the Winter Soldier.” Sam pushed back in his chair and swiveled the laptop around so Steve could see it.

 _Bucky._ Steve was at Sam’s side in an instant. “They’ve found him? Where? I can be ready to go in five minutes.”

“Hold on, Cap,” said Sam, with a hand on Steve’s forearm. “Not a sighting, just a lead.” He pointed to a sentence in his friend’s email. “An execution style hit last night on a known Hydra operative inside the Beltway. The bullet found at the scene doesn’t trace to any S.H.I.E.L.D. or government agent, though it looks to be military grade. Intel suggests it could be him.” 

“He’s trying to avoid recapture.” A wave of hope surged through Steve. 

“Maybe,” Sam replied. “Or maybe it’s a trap to draw you out.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t attack me.”

“They probably won’t, but if you attack them and they fire back, it’s self-defense. Justifiable homicide. An excuse to take you out.”

That actually made sense. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Does Garrett think he’s still in the area?”

Sam scanned the email again. “He doesn’t say, but if the hit was made by the Winter Soldier, he’s likely still close by. Could be searching for something.” He tapped out a response and hit send. “I’ve asked Garrett to check security and traffic cams in the area. Maybe that can tell us a little more.”

Steve was already forming a to-do list in his head. “Until then, we can-“

“Until then, we can wait.” Sam pointed to Steve’s now lukewarm coffee. “Have a seat. Without resources and a good plan, we’re just wasting our efforts.”

The flare of hope fizzled out like a cheap sparkler. Steve slumped back down onto the sofa. Sam was right. They needed a plan. A real plan and more than two people to execute said plan. S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. The US government was compromised, not that Steve believed for a second they would have wanted to get involved anyway. If Bucky was still in D.C., they had one shot at capturing him. It was stupid to waste it on a poorly-executed attempt, but he had to do something. Even when he’d been a glorified showgirl selling bonds during WW2, he’d at least been helping. Now? His butt warmed a couch.

Sam turned in his chair and studied Steve carefully. “This is eating you alive, isn’t it? Not being able to be the big damn hero.”

“I don’t care about being the hero!” Steve’s eyes blazed as he spoke. “I care about Bucky. He’s my best friend, my only friend for years. My brother. He needs me and I’m sitting here on a sofa.”

“Sorry, man.” Sam raised his hands in apology. “I didn’t realize how passionate you were about finding him.”

Passionate. That was an odd choice of wording, and the thought of it pulled Steve up short. “I don’t know about passion, but there’s a lot I owe him. He was my friend when I had nobody else. He looked out for me, cared for me, watched over me. And then, after the serum,” he said, gesturing at his body, “he followed me into war. Not Captain America. Me. Steve Rogers. The kid from Brooklyn who didn’t know when to give up.”

“Sounds like a special bond. I’ve never had a friend like that.”

“That’s why I have to find him. Bucky would do the same for me.”

Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I get that. I do…but…” He hesitated and chewed on the edge of his lip.

“But what?” 

“But what if there’s no Bucky left to find?” Sam finished. “That man I saw, the one who blindly attacked both of us with the sole intent of putting us six feet under, is a killing machine. Think about it, Steve. He came after you like a heat-seeking missile. All he wanted to do was complete his mission.”

Steve shook his head emphatically. “No. That wasn’t Bucky. Hydra brainwashed him.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Sam leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “They siphoned all of Bucky out of there. Bucky’s gone. You looked into his eyes just like I did. Nothing was there, just blank space. They wiped him smooth as a baby’s butt and programmed him to be a lethal weapon. I don’t think there’s a Bucky left to be found.”

“Bucky’s in there. I know it.” Steve met Sam’s questioning look with one of determination. “He could have killed me there at the end, but he didn’t. Something, even if it’s the finest shred of a memory, caused him to waiver. That’s the shred I’m clinging to. That’s my shred of hope.”

Sam still looked skeptical, but he nodded. “Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”

~*~

It was early-afternoon when Steve hit the wall. A combination of over-exertion, junk food and lack of sleep made him feel like death warmed over, and watching CNN’s never-ending replay and commentary on the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t helping. 

“I’m heading to the back.” He stood up and switched off the TV. Nothing a good nap wouldn’t fix.

Sam glanced up from the laptop. “Okay. I’ll let you know if there’s any news.”

The blankets were still neatly tucked from when he made his bed in the guest room that morning. Pulling them back was too much of an effort, so he kicked off his shoes and lay down on top. “Just a few minutes, that’s all I need,” he murmured. Then the bottom dropped out.

His eyes snapped open and he looked around. It was twilight. He stood on the edge of a campsite, just outside of the glow of a campfire. The evening was cool, so he turned up the collar of the leather coat that covered his familiar navy uniform. Behind him someone told a joke bawdy enough to make a sailor blush and was rewarded with raucous laughter and claps on the back. Something about pies and a baker’s daughter, but Steve had already focused his attention on something else. A few feet in front of him, a lone soldier sat on the edge of a fallen log. He’d know the set of those broad shoulders anywhere.

“Bucky.”

A face still in shadows turned toward him, grey eyes shining in the dwindling light, and grinned. 

Steve crushed him in an enthusiastic hug. “Bucky! I thought I’d lost you.”

That wonderful, familiar laugh rumbled against Steve’s chest. “It’s hard to get lost when you never let me out of your sight. Besides, where am I gonna go? If I stray too far, I’ll get a bullet blistering my backside.”

Steve settled on the log next to Bucky and took a more careful look at his hazy surroundings. The horizon faded into mist, with closer objects standing out in sharp contrast. It was an unearthly version of Italy, 1941. He was dreaming, yet fully aware. He’d learned the practice of lucid dreaming as a way to combat the insomnia and nightmares he experienced after he awoke from stasis, but he wasn’t controlling this dream. Not by a long shot.

Steve cleared his throat and draped an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “I noticed you weren’t with the others and I was worried.”

Bucky nodded and looked up at the darkening sky. A thunderhead rumbled in the distance. “Sometimes it’s good to get away, you know? Be alone with your thoughts and remind yourself what it is you’re fighting for.” 

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it?” Steve gave Bucky’s shoulders a squeeze.

“Yeah. Whoever said ‘war is hell’ made a gross understatement.” 

A ghost of a shadow moved behind them. Steve whipped his head around. A large ash tree appeared out of thin air, shivered, then changed just as swiftly to a sprawling oak. Leaves fluttered down around them, swirled about, and then burst into droplets like bubbles pricked by a pin. The edges of the forest melted together, swimming to dark pools on the tree line. Steve’s blood ran cold. Things were spinning out of control. Above him the shadows began to shift, flickering, menacing, but the fabric of Bucky’s jacket under his fingers felt substantial. Real. What kind of nightmare was this? 

“Bucky, listen to me.” Steve shifted on the log and grasped Bucky behind the back of his neck. “Something is going to happen and I will lose you. Please, whatever you do, don’t forget me,” he pleaded.

Bucky blinked at him, confused. “You’re acting weird. Nothing is going to happen. We’ve planned the attack on Hydra’s outpost so well that a blindfolded goat could do it. It’ll go off without a hitch. You’ll see.” 

Determined, Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulder with his other hand. “I need for you to remember me. Promise me that. Say it.”

Bucky sighed and poked his finger into Steve’s chest right in the center of his uniform’s bright white star. “I promise. And even if I forget your ugly mug, I’ll still remember the suit.”

The edges of the sky tore downward in great gashes. Ragged lines of black seeped into midnight blue, shimmering around the edges and blurring the landscape of the forest. The dream was unraveling. Without thinking, Steve leaned forward and brushed his lips against Bucky’s cheek, savoring that brief moment of warmth. “Remember this, too,” he whispered.

When Steve pulled back to look at Bucky one last time, something had changed. A hardness clicked into place behind those grey eyes like the cocking of a loaded pistol. It was the same steely gaze that met him on the bridge a couple of weeks ago. The Winder Soldier. Steve’s stomach clenched.

The hand that hadn’t moved from Steve’s chest now shoved him violently backward. “Why do I keep seeing you?! Stay out of my head!”

“Wait…No, Bucky…Bucky!”

He fell, expecting a sprawling landing on moss and dirt, but he kept falling. Downward, hurtling faster and faster, tumbling head over heels until he didn’t know up from down. His breath caught in his chest. Wind rushed past his ears. He closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable impact.

“Steve!”

He jerked awake, and there he was on top of his bed, covers still neatly arranged beneath him. “Huh?”

“I’ve been calling your name for three minutes,” Sam said. “You’d better come see this.”

Steve followed Sam into the den and crouched next to the desk. “What are we looking at?”

“Surveillance video from the Air and Space Museum. It was captured just before the exhibit closed last night. The Captain America exhibit.”

Sam pushed a button. A camera mounted on the ceiling captured blurry stream of people filing past the Howling Commandos display. One lone figure stood staring at a life-size figure of Captain America, poised just beyond the rest of the crowd, unmoving. Dark jacket, baseball cap, long hair, shoulders squared in that oh-so-familiar way.

_…I’ll remember the suit._

“It’s him.” Steve stood up and started to pace in a tight circle.

“You can’t be sure without seeing the rest of the footage. It could be him, but-“

Steve cut Sam off with a wave of his hand. “I’ve known him for 80 years. It’s him.”

“Hard to argue with that logic.” Sam leaned back in his chair and watched the footage roll. “But now what? We can’t just go get him. I’ve seen what he can do with that metal arm.”

Steve agreed. “We need help, but with S.H.I.E.L.D. in ruins, I don’t know who I can trust.”

“Could we call Romanoff?” Sam asked.

“Untraceable.”

“Clint Barton?”

“Unreliable.”

“Bruce Banner?”

“Unstable.”

“Thor?”

“Unavailable.”

“Fury?”

“Unlikely.”

“Stark?”

That question dangled out there like a piece of live bait, and Tony Stark was the hook that would inevitably get caught in Steve’s craw, but he swallowed it anyway. “Unfortunately, he’s our only option. Give me a disposable phone.”

“Burner phone.” Sam dug one out of the desk drawer and held it out.

“Whatever.” He punched in the number to Tony’s cell that he still knew by heart and wondered offhand what that said about his priorities.

A vaguely familiar female voice picked up on the second ring. “Stark Enterprises.”

Steve frowned to himself. He even had someone answering his cellphone now? Typical. “Tony Stark, please.”

“He’s unavailable. May I tell him who called and take a message?”

“Sure. Tell him it’s Steve Rogers. “

“Steve? Steve, it’s Maria Hill. I wanted to get in touch with you but…”

He heard something that sounded suspiciously like a hand snatching away a cellphone and another familiar voice came on the line. “Quick. 1941, game 4 of the world series, who hit the double to score Joe Gordon?”

“What? Nobody. Joe Gordon hit the double to score Dickey and Keller. Did you lose a bet?”

“Ah, it is you. And, yes, I’ve lost several bets though none yet today that I’m aware of,” said Tony sounding relieved.

“I guess you’ve heard about the Winter Soldier.”

“The terminator with the bad weave? I’ve been briefed. I hear he put you in the ER. Impressive. Even the sack full of crazy known as Loki didn’t manage to do that.”

“It’s a long story,” Steve replied. He did not want to get into the details of Bucky with Stark. Especially not Stark. He took a deep breath and kept going. “I’m calling to ask you a favor.”

“A favor?” Tony’s voice rose half an octave. Steve didn’t like the sound of that. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

 _Here we go,_ thought Steve as he began a slow pace around Sam’s den.

“You need help finding a date.”

“Got that covered. What I need –“

“A recommendation of a good Chinese restaurant?”

“No, Tony, I-“ 

“Help removing the rod that’s shoved up your ass?”

“...” Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oops. Was that too much? I didn’t mean to hit a nerve, though, technically that area is nothing but one giant nerve ending.”

“That’s it. I’m hanging up.” Just as Steve’s thumb was about to hit the “end call” button, he heard Maria’s voice screeching in the background.

“Steve! Don’t hang up!”

He heard a scuffle for the phone along with the phrase, “we’re going to have a conversation later that you’re probably not going to enjoy”, before Tony came back on the line. “Really, I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “Like I said, I need a favor.”

“Anything. Name it.”

“I need Iron Man.”

“No can do. I’m out of the suit business.”

“Since when?!?” Steve yelled with ripe irritation.

“Since I blew all the other ones up and promised the government I’d not design any more in exchange for a fat defense contract building other stuff.”

“Great.” Steve started to resume pacing until Sam grabbed his elbow.

“It doesn’t have to be an Iron Man suit. What if we provide an alternate suit design? One for me?” Sam held up the laptop. On the screen were the specs for his Falcon suit. 

“If we give you the design for a different kind of suit, could you build it?” Steve asked, hopefully.

“Sure, I can build anything,” said Tony. “Well…except for that bow with the hydraulic rocket launcher that Barton dreamed up and drew on the back of a napkin.”

“Where are you?” 

“The Silver Spring location. You?”

“Alexandria.” Steve glanced at his watch. “And we can be there in two hours.”

“Great. I’ll see you in one.” *click*

Sam put the suit specs on a flash drive while Steve grabbed his shield found the keys to Sam’s Jeep. “I’m not sure we can make it there in one hour.“

“We sure as hell won’t if you drive,” said Sam, snatching the keys out of Steve’s hand and running out the door. “You drive like a ninety year old.”

“…that’s ninety-five year old!” Steve called, right behind him.

~*~


	2. Uneasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm following the movie arc, but from here on, there will be lots of AU moments.  
> Lucid dreaming is a practice I followed when dealing with horrible, recurring nightmares as a child, but I took some liberties with the process.

Sam skidded the Jeep into a parking spot in front of a squat, nondescript gray building just north of Silver Spring, Maryland. They’d broken more than one traffic law in the process, but they arrived in under an hour.

Sam shaded his eyes and squinted at the building. “I thought you said everything Stark built was ugly. This is not so bad.”

“That’s because Stark didn’t build it,” Steve replied as he slammed the door to the Jeep. 

Maria Hill met them at the door and escorted them down to the lab in the basement. “Hi, Steve,” she said with a grin. “It’s good to see you. You, too, Sam.”

Steve gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

The elevator doors opened directly into a large, brightly lit workspace. Tony waived to them from the coffee pot. “Cap! For a guy who went down with the ship twice, you look pretty good!”

“Let’s hope there’s no third time,” said Steve.

“I hear the third time’s the charm.” Tony stepped forward offered his hand to Sam. “Tony Stark. You must be the guy with the suit.”

“Sam Wilson. The suit design is revolutionary.” Sam took Tony’s hand and gave it a firm shake. 

“Nothing the government designs is revolutionary unless you count the crab cakes in the Senate Dining Room,” said Tony. “Truly amazing.”

“When did you make the move to Silver Spring?” Steve asked. “I thought you kept your main operations in New York and L.A.”

“After I snagged the Department of Defense contract. I bought this facility from another supplier that went under and I’m building a lab in in New Mexico, near Los Alamos. Based on NASA funding, possibly one in Cape Canaveral, too. I’m everywhere, Steve. Like Starbucks.”

“And cockroaches,” said Steve.

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Is that any way to talk to a guy who’s about to do you a favor? Your bedside manner needs work.” He poked Sam on the arm. “Is he like this with all the girls?”

Steve folded his arms over his chest. “I do just fine with girls.”

“If you want me to put out, you gotta give me more than that. At least tell me I’m special.”

Sam draped an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Have I told you what a handsome man you are?”

Tony chuckled. “See? He’s got the right idea. I can feel my panties dropping already.”

Sam wiggled an eyebrow. “And I have something in my pocket just for you.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Tony. He pointed to a workstation on the other side of the room. “Let’s head to the back. I’ll show you my propelling nozzle. I think there’s some Barry White on my iPod.”

Steve shook his head as he watched them go. “At least he’s consistent.”

“He’s not so bad in small doses,” said Maria with a smile. “I take long lunches.” She led him to a small, windowless office just off the main workroom.

“If you say so,” Steve replied, dropping into a cushioned chair. “Nice office. Love the view.”

Maria smirked. “My office is upstairs, complete with a window and a lovely view of the parking lot. This is just a mainframe station in case Tony needs to look something up.”

“No wireless internet?”

“Of course we have Wifi, but some things need to stay on the mainframe, regardless of the security of the wireless network. Someone is always watching.” Maria settled into the chair behind the desk. “What are your plans for bringing in the Winter Soldier?”

Steve exhaled slowly. “Honestly, I don’t have any yet.”

Maria furrowed her brow. “Are you serious? I know how much you enjoy creating a long-range plan and a detailed checklist.”

“I can’t concentrate. I haven’t been sleeping well. Actually, I haven’t been sleeping at all.”

“Nightmares?”

Steve gave her a worried look. “More than that. Do you have access to Howard Stark’s research notes? The notes he made about the serum and its effects on me?”

“I do. Tony had them all scanned and put on the mainframe so I can perform a keyword search and pull up whatever you want. Anything in particular you want to know?”

Steve scooted his chair closer. “Parapsychology and increased brain function.”

Maria typed in a few keystrokes and hit enter. “The database shows that S.H.I.E.L.D. tested all of your cognitive functions.”

Steve nodded. “They did, both before and after stasis and found nothing other than an improvement in memory and recall after the initial dose. I wondered, though, if there was evidence of continued neurological transformation.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Thought transference. I think I was in Bucky’s head this afternoon. I know that sounds crazy, but...”

“Not necessarily. You both received the same serum, so one could postulate that the same physical and neurological changes occurred on the molecular level. Who is to say that the serum didn’t create some sort of connection? It’s certainly worth looking into.” She leaned back in her chair. “Especially if you were inside of his head.”

Steve shrugged. “That’s only a theory. The dream was based on memories that weren’t mine, even though they seemed familiar, and when the dream unraveled I had no control over anything. That’s the first thing you learn in lucid dreaming: control your surroundings. I’m pretty sure he was in control.”

“It sounds dangerous, Steve. He’s clearly unstable.”

“I agree, but I have to sleep sometime.”

“If you think you need help, Bruce Banner is in New York. He’s the expert on neurological and physical transformations.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I can handle it. I’m fine. If you could get Howard’s notes, it would really help me.”

“Sure. I can have them before you leave.” 

Sam appeared in the doorway, all smiles. “Tony thinks he can have the suit built in a couple of days, three tops. Most of the parts needed for the propulsion are here, and the metal for the wing frames can be overnighted from L.A. I’ll come back for a fitting and a test run, then we’ll be good to go.”

“Okay. As soon as Maria prints out Howard’s notes, we can hit the road,” said Steve.

“Howard Stark?” Sam looked impressed. “You knew him, right? What was he like?”

“He really liked fondue.”

~*~

Later that evening, Steve sat on his bed pored over the pages Maria had given him. Despite Howard’s scrupulous notes covering every detail of Steve’s physical transformation, there weren’t many entries about his neurological changes. The results of an IQ test administered before and after the serum showed an uptick in measurable intelligence, but not a tremendous improvement. Steve had always been smart. He scanned the pages again, flipping through them until a sentence caught his eye. “Theoretically, metamorphosis could continue indefinitely. Further study required.” Aha. He was on the right trail, he just needed a compass.

He dropped the pages back into the folder and leaned back on his elbows. His eyes fell on the folder Romanoff had given him in the cemetery, the one detailing Bucky’s imprisonment, and he sighed. It broke his heart to know what horrors Bucky had endured. He’d almost made it halfway through the file before the first tear fell. Whatever it took to find Bucky and bring him back, he’d do it. 

Although it was only 10:00, he was exhausted. He climbed under the blanket and stretched long in the bed until his toes dangled off the end. Before the first tug of sleep pulled him under, he mentally reviewed the keys to lucid dreaming, the most important being to designate a trigger. A trigger was an item or phrase that would key the conscious mind to awaken, thus ending the dream. Steve had always incorporated a ballpoint click pen in his pocket. When he pulled it out and gave it a click, it was his cue to wake up. As he drifted off, he held the image of the pen in his mind. Just in case.

His eyes snapped open. Before he could gage his surroundings, a wave of nausea rushed through him. He doubled over and retched. A pair of warm hands guided him to a wooden bench where he sat with his head between his legs.

“Gee, Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t know The Cyclone would make you spew.”

 _Bucky._ Steve wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and turned to look up at his friend. “I tried to tell you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened innocently. “I thought it would be a laugh, and the girls were impressed right up until you threw up.”

Steve looked around. The sights and sounds of the Coney Island fairground spun around him in a dizzying circle. The jangly music from the carousel, the festive lights, the smell of kettle corn and spun sugar. He remembered this night well. August 1941. “Where did the girls run off to?” asked Steve. 

“Trudie needed to wash her hair, and Betty called it a night after you got sick.” Bucky rubbed Steve’s back. “That’s okay. It can be us fellas the rest of the night.”

Steve grinned, feeling better already. “We won’t miss them a bit.” And they wouldn’t, if he remembered correctly. It would be last night he had Bucky all to himself before the summer ended. 

Bucky stood up and pulled Steve up by his elbow. “Where to, now?”

“No more rides,” said Steve with a hand on his tummy. “And no more corndogs. Tasting one twice was enough.”

Bucky gave Steve a lopsided grin and draped an arm round his shoulders. “It’s a deal. Sideshow row it is.”

Steve responded in kind, looping his arm round Bucky’s waist as they walked. It was a snapshot moment, one that Steve desperately wish he could freeze and revisit whenever he wanted. The night was warm and breezy, the air rich with sound of excited children and the smell of hotdogs and tangy mustard. In that instant, everything was perfect.

They continued their walk past the spinning rides and sparkling lights to the colorful sideshow tents at the end of the boardwalk. A barker on a megaphone called out for them to step inside and see the headless woman for only five cents. Steve was perfectly happy to continue walking arm-in-arm with his best friend. Lately, Steve competed with everything under the sun for Bucky’s undivided attention, so when he found himself the center of it, he felt on top of the world. 

Suddenly, Bucky came to a dead stop right in front of a dark tent. “Get a load of that! A house of mirrors!” His eyes danced with excitement. “You can be tall, I can be scrawny. It’ll be ace!”

A cool shiver ran up Steve’s back. They weren’t supposed to stop until they reached the end of the boardwalk. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t a part of his memories. He felt the front pocket of his shirt for the ballpoint pen and relaxed as his hand closed around it. If things spun out of control, his failsafe was in place.

“Come on, Steve. Let’s take a gander. My treat.” Bucky placed a shiny dime in the sideshow worker’s palm, and dragged Steve with him into the dim tent. 

A tired light bulb dangled above them, providing the only light inside. Steve shrank back as his trepidation rose. “Buck, I’m not so sure about this.”

“Stop being a patsy,” Bucky teased. He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and herded him over to the nearest mirror. “That’s one top notch illusion. You almost look handsome.”

Steve elbowed Bucky in the stomach and ducked away. “Too bad you’re still ugly.” He forced a grin, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness. 

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, wise guy.” Bucky turned to his right and stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow, Steve. You sure look different.”

Steve turned to see his reflection. His mouth went dry. Captain America. The familiar red and blue uniform clad version of himself stared back. “Bucky, I think we need to get out of here.”

But Bucky had already turned to face another mirror. “Who is that? I was sure we were the only ones in here.”

Steve knew whose reflection it was before he even turned around. The Winter Soldier’s dark stare targeted them both. “Let’s go,” he said, reaching for Bucky’s hand. “Now.”

It was too late. Before they could move, the glass exploded around them, sending shards flying in every direction. Steve threw up a hand to protect his face. The ground beneath their feet lurched violently to the left, sending Steve crashing headlong through one of the broken glass frames. He tucked into a dive roll and came up in a crouch just in time to see the mirror re-form, trapping him in a shadowy room behind the glass. Helplessly, he watched his pre-serum self in the center of the tent dissolve and fade away. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. 

A metallic click sounded next to Steve’s ear and he whipped his head around. The Winter Soldier stood next to him, suited in black Kevlar, gun trained right at Steve’s head.

Immediately, Steve’s hand went to his chest where his pocket should have been, but he felt only the familiar white star on his Captain America uniform. The pen! He glanced desperately at the floor, but finding the pen among the mess of broken glass would be impossible. He raised his hands in surrender and looked the Winter Soldier right in the eyes. 

“You brought me here. Why?” asked the Winter Soldier.

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t mean to. We share a connection.”

The Winter Soldier did not blink. “We share nothing.”

“Yes, we do. The same serum that flows through your veins flows in mine.”

The gun dropped ever so slightly. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you remember who you are.” Steve took a cautious step forward. “You’re Bucky.” _My Bucky._

The Winter Soldier frowned and looked away. Steve took that chance to step forward. Something rolled under his foot. The pen. He carefully bent down to pick it up, just as the Winter Soldier refocused his stare.

To Steve’s right a mirror shimmered and glowed. A blurry image slowly came into focus. Bucky, looking thin and haunted, blinked at him from behind the glass. 

Before Steve could react, the Winter Soldier took aim at the apparition in the mirror and fired three bullets in rapid succession. The gun swung back toward Steve. There was no more time to reason or explain. Steve gripped the pen in his right hand and clicked.

Immediately, he was awake in his own bed, sweating and tangled up in the covers. He rolled over and checked the time on the clock. 4:35 a.m. Without thinking, he grabbed the burner phone next to the bed and punched in the numbers. Hopefully, Maria was an early riser.

“Steve?” she said groggily. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he replied. “I need Banner’s number.”

“What happened? Were you in Bucky’s head again?”

“No,” said Steve, swallowing hard. “He was in mine.”

~*~


	3. Unstable

Twelve hours later, the third floor of Stark Enterprises looked like a tornado had blown through. Papers covered every flat surface, charts graphed the movements of the Winter Soldier, and blinking monitors plotted a series of his possible next targets. Bruce Banner turned counterclockwise in the eye of the storm, trying to make sense of it all. “I can see why you’re concerned. He’s all over the place.”

Steve nodded from his seat on the other side of the worktable. “At first we thought he was searching for something, but now I suspect he’s in survival mode, trying to stay alive.” He fished out a report from the middle of a pile of papers. “The two hits earlier today were both deep cover agents. I’m not even sure S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about them, but he took them out before they could bring him in.”

“That’s the reason we need to focus on strengthening the thought transference sequence between the two of you, unless you want him to take you out, too.”

Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So you believe there is a real connection, then.”

“Absolutely. The serum caused the development of new neural pathways in both of you, and when combined with elevated levels of brain function, it’s likely that with the right stimuli, you’re able to achieve thought transference.” Bruce stopped turning, hands on his hips, and faced Steve. “The question is, how do you make it work to your advantage?”

“It’s been haphazard so far. I go to sleep and he’s in my head or I’m in his.”

“Right, but it doesn’t have to be,” said Bruce. “With some guided thought direction and mild hypnosis, you can better ensure that you stay in control.”

“So, I can direct how the dream goes.”

“To a certain extent. He still has free will, so there’s always a chance it can go sideways.” Bruce folded his arms over his chest. “What is it that you’re trying to accomplish, Steve? What’s your end game?”

Steve looked at Bruce with clear-eyed determination. “I want Bucky back.”

“You may not like what you get,” Bruce said. “Best case scenario, his mind will have already re-formed the synaptic connections damaged by the drugs and repeated shock treatments and he’ll just have garden variety Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Worst case, you’re looking not only at PSTD but at compartmentalization syndrome and dissociative identity disorder, significant amnesia, paranoia…a whole box full of crazy. Highly unstable. Either way, he’s not the same Bucky you knew.”

“And I’m not the same Steve he knew. We’ve both been through hell and back and come out the other side as different people, but he’s still Bucky. He’s still my best friend and I won’t give up on him.”

“Okay, then let’s think this through. The Winter Soldier takes over whenever you get too close to Bucky, so that seems to be his defense mechanism. It’s going to take a particularly strong connecting memory to force Bucky to the surface. One of your memories that’s going to invoke a strong reaction in both of you. Anything come to mind?”

Steve looked down at his hands. “The day Bucky fell from the train. The day he died.”

“Well, death is powerful, alright. If that doesn’t get his attention, I don’t know what will, but it’s going to be hard to re-live.”

“It’ll be worth it,” said Steve, his jaw clenched as he spoke. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

“He’s gonna fight you, Steve. Once you see Bucky, hold on to him. Stay in the moment. Focus on him, go where he goes, follow his lead. The moment your focus waivers, he’ll slip away and you’ll have the Winter Soldier looking you in the eye. It’s not going to be easy, and you could get hurt. Badly hurt.”

“It’s only a dream, right?” Steve asked.

“Yes, but the mind makes it real. You’ll feel the pain just as if you actually experienced the event. Be ready for a battle.”

Steve rose to his feet. “When do we start?”

“Right now.”

~*~

Steve got as comfortable as he could on the examination table and took a deep breath. He felt like a science experiment and half expected Howard Stark to burst through the door with a syringe and a half-baked plan. Some cd of new age singers chanted and moaned in the background. Steve thought it sounded like dying cats, but Bruce insisted the music would help him focus, so he gave in without an argument. For the record, it wasn’t helping.

Bruce fitted a cap with an array of small electrodes over Steve’s head. Multicolored wires trailed from the cap back to a series of monitors. “I’m measuring your brain activity with the EEG equipment. Usually during REM sleep, a person isn’t aware he’s dreaming, but during lucid dreaming, the prefrontal cortex will light up signifying consciousness. I’ll be able to monitor your levels of awareness and also capture any information about other areas of the brain that might be stimulated during the thought transference.”

“So, I am really a lab rat.”

Bruce grinned. “All in the name of science, Steve.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “If I wake up green and angry, I’m blaming you.”

“I’m going to count backward from five. With each number, you will enter a state of deeper relaxation. When I reach one, I will touch your forehead and you will be in a state of clarity. Five…four…three…two…one…” 

Steve felt a touch on his forehead and sank bonelessly downward. If he’d ever been this relaxed before, he couldn’t remember it. His mind, however, felt remarkably clear. 

“Open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

Steve blinked. He hovered above a familiar scene that was frozen mid-action. “I’m aboard Zola’s train. Bucky is in the train car with me. We’ve just killed a Hydra soldier, but the second is coming up behind us.”

“Remember what I told you, Steve. Follow Bucky wherever he goes no matter where it takes you.” 

Steve’s heart thundered in his chest, and with a whoosh of sound and colors, he dropped into the action. “Look out,” he cried, covering himself and Bucky with his shield. The blow from the soldier’s laser gun knocked him off his feet. His shield clattered to the floor. Bucky dove for it and held it as he returned fire, but the force firing the gun and the Hydra soldier’s fire hitting the shield blew him out the back of the train. Steve leapt up and followed him out, clinging to the side with one arm. “Bucky! Hang on! Grab my hand!”

Just as Steve had replayed in his mind a thousand times before, the metal fragment to which Bucky clung gave way and he plummeted to the snowy ravine below. This time, though, Steve took a deep breath, let go of his grip and fell with him. His heart raced as he picked up speed. Trees and rocks and huge drifts of snow and ice rushed past him in a blur. If you died in a dream, would you die in real life? He hadn’t thought to ask that, but he hoped the answer was no. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact, which was just as brutal as he had imagined it would be. For a few minutes, he lay there on the snowy ground and stared up at the sky before he dared himself to sit upright. Nothing appeared to be broken, though he suspected he’d be sore tomorrow. Gingerly, he climbed to his feet and looked around. A soft groan came from somewhere behind him. _Bucky._

“Hang on, Bucky. I’m coming,” cried Steve as he ran to where Bucky lay in a tangle of metal and limbs. The metal shaft from the train had pierced his left arm, which was nothing more than a twisted, bloody mangle of sinew and bone. Remarkably, the rest of Bucky seemed to have fared well considering the depth of his fall. 

“Steve? Is that you?” A fine film of sweat coated Bucky’s pale face and he shivered. He was going into shock. 

Steve took off his coat and laid it over Bucky’s chest. “Yeah, buddy. It’s me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe and then figure out how to get us back home.”

“It’s funny, huh. How I used to rescue you and now you’re always rescuing me.” Bucky tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a raspy cough. 

“It’s what friends do.” Steve scanned the length of the cavernous ravine. No sign of Hydra yet, but the soldiers would arrive soon. They needed to move. He knelt down to study Bucky’s arm again. There would be no saving it, but he couldn’t bear to face that right now. “I’m going to tie your arm up, and then we’re going to head for cover.”

Bucky nodded. “Whatever you say, Cap,” he said with a weak grin, but his eyes looked frightened. Steve was a gentle as he could be with the mangled arm, but Bucky still groaned every time it moved. 

As it turned out, stabilizing the arm was the easy part. Bucky’s legs buckled when he tried to stand, so Steve picked him up and carried him toward the far side of the ravine. It was awkward at first, but once Bucky stopped objecting, he relaxed in Steve’s arms and laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve bent his head and buried his nose in Bucky’s dark hair. The familiar scent of him filled Steve with nostalgia. Handmade soap, licorice sticks, whiskey, and that wonderful warmth that was Bucky. 

When they reached the cliff face, Steve found a jagged boulder to use for cover. An expansive snowbank shielded their view from the left, so Steve settled between it and the rock, and arranged Bucky in his lap. At this point, Bucky struggled to remain conscious. Steve didn’t know how much time he had left before everything would fall apart.

Bucky stirred in his arms and lifted his head. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck. What is it?” Steve forced himself to smile down at the pale face that grew more feverish by the second.

“If I don’t make it…”

Steve frowned. “You’re going to make it,” he said.

“But if I don’t,” Bucky continued, “I want you to know that you mean everything to me. You always have.” He grinned and his eyes misted. “Remember that night in the bar? The night Peggy wore the red dress and you accused me of being jealous?”

Steve chuckled. “I never accused you of that, but you absolutely were.”

“Yes, I was, but not of you. I was jealous of her.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he searched Bucky’s eyes. “Of her? Why?” 

“Because I knew she’d take you away from me one day. Even then she had your heart, and it would only be a matter of time before the rest of you followed.” Bucky blinked back tears. “It tore me up to think I wouldn’t be the most important person in your life any longer.”

“Oh, Bucky,” whispered Steve. “There’s room in my heart for both of you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I know, but in that moment it was hard to take.” Bucky gave Steve a watery grin. “When we get out of here, we’ll all go dancing. I’ll find the prettiest girl in town and spin her round the dance floor til she’s dizzy.” 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s damp forehead. “It’s a date.”

Bucky settled back into Steve’s arms, while Steve scanned the length of the ravine once again. Still no sign of Hydra.

Suddenly, Bucky spasmed and twitched and rolled off of Steve’s lap. The air around him shimmered and splintered into fragments of light and blooms of color. Bucky was disappearing. Steve grabbed the fabric of Bucky’s uniform. “Don’t you leave me!”

Bucky turned to face him, but he was no longer himself. The Winter Soldier stared out from behind those gray eyes. Steve scrambled backward in shock. “Where is Bucky?”

The Winter Soldier rose to his feet and stared down at Steve for a long moment before speaking. “He’s here. I can’t make him leave.”

“Then you know how much I care about him, that I would never hurt him, and that I will always come for him no matter the risk.”

“He trusts you,” the Winter Soldier replied. “But I trust nobody.”

“Give me a chance, then. Give me a chance to earn your trust.”

“How?”

Steve stood up and took a step forward. “We’ll come and find you, my friends and I. Let us help you.”

“I don’t want to be found.”

“Please…” Steve begged. “You can’t keep running forever. Hydra is too strong, too fast, too well organized. Come with me tomorrow night and I’ll keep you safe. I promise. If Bucky trusts me, you can, too.”

The Winter Soldier hesitated, then gave him a sharp nod. “Tomorrow night. The warehouse district in Northeast DC. Blair Road. Ten o’clock.”

“Thank you,” Steve said earnestly. “I won’t let you down.”

The sky above them flashed. Dark clouds rolled overhead, blocking the sun. Deep gashes ripped through the landscape. Steve flung a desperate look over his shoulder as the sun melted into the horizon. “Bruce! Get me out of here!” he cried.

With a gasp, Steve awoke on the cold metal table, panting hard drenched in sweat.

“How’d it go?” Bruce asked as he removed the EEG cap from Steve’s head.

“Tomorrow night in the warehouse district. 10 pm.”

“I hope we’re ready that soon.”

“We’d better be ready. It’s our only chance.”


	4. Unexpected

The first rays of dawn peeked over the rooftops and spread long fingers of light between the oak trees, painting the lawn of Sam’s house in streaks of orange and yellow. Steve sat on the front steps and re-tied the laces of his trainers. Behind him, the front door squeaked open, then closed with a soft click.

“Want some company?” Sam stretched against the railings of the front porch.

“Sure, if you think you can keep up.” 

“Oh, it’s still like that?” Sam bounced down the stairs to where Steve sat. 

“Yeah, it’s like that,” said Steve with a grin. “But I can take it down a notch for you since you’re slower than molasses in December.”

Sam just shook his head. “I guess you’ll be on my left.”

They jogged in amiable silence for a few minutes. The morning air was crisp and cool, a gentle breeze at their backs. A few mockingbirds called to each other from the treetops. 

Sam cut his eyes over to Steve. “You okay? You’re tight, man. Tighter than one of your t-shirts.”

Steve came to a stop and rested his hands on his hips. “Considering I slept about fifteen minutes last night, I thought I was doing pretty well.”

“Let me be the first to burst that bubble.”

“My mind keeps going in circles,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “There are a thousand different ways everything could fail and I think I’ve envisioned all of them.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Steve. I’ve seen the plans and the checklists and they’re spot-on. You got this. It’ll work,” said Sam. “Would you do anything differently if it were me you were trying to rescue?”

“Not really,” admitted Steve. “Same basic extraction plan, though, hopefully, without having to worry about you ripping my head off with your prosthetic arm.”

“Then trust your plan. It’s a good one.”

Steve nodded and put a hand on Sam’s back. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“No problem.”

Steve jerked his head toward the road and set off again at a moderate jog. “Let’s get going, Pokey. I’m not getting any younger.”

~*~

By early evening, Steve assembled everyone in Tony’s third floor workroom, and had meticulously ticked through every box on his checklist. Twice. 

“I still think we need more people,” said Tony as he fiddled with a headset microphone.

“For a one-man extraction? Four people are more than enough,” Steve said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I once rescued half of the 107th by myself.”

“Yeah, but the one man is a Terminator without the snappy dialogue. And let’s be real. Hydra will be there. It’s just a matter of how many they bring and how large their guns are.”

“Are you just going to complain, or do you have something of value to add? Because I have a lot to do before tonight.”

“Actually, I do have something,” Tony replied, reaching behind him. He plopped a large box on the table, right on top of Steve’s checklist.

“What is this?” Steve stared the box with narrowed eyes.

“It’s a box.”

“I know it’s a box!” barked Steve. 

Tony held up a hand to cut Steve off. “Just open it.”

Steve took a long, deep, calming breath before taking his frustrations with Tony out on the box. The packing tape put up a fight but popped open after a second hard yank. There, in the middle of shredded packing paper lay an exact replica of his 1940’s Captain America suit, just like the one he’d completely destroyed a few weeks ago. He pulled it out and held it up, eyes wide. “How…? Tony, I can’t believe it.”

Tony shrugged. “Called in a few favors at the Smithsonian. By the way, you’re the guest of honor at a Super Sweet Sixteen party next Saturday. Her name is Megan. She likes purple and One Direction.”

Steve’s smile lit up his entire face, and held out his hand. “Thank you. I mean it.”

Tony took the offered hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Go put it on, but be careful with the right cuff. I packed a few surprises in there for later.”

“What kind of surprises?” 

“The kind that go ‘boom’.”

~*~

Steve leaned over a large, high-resolution map of Northeast DC, trying to get the lay of the land. Though the streets were laid out in a grid, the warehouses themselves were of varying size and shape and did not all face Blair Road. In front of him, Tony’s monitor projected a 3-D infrared map of heat images from the area. Most humans’ core temperature vacillated between about 97 and 99 degrees Fahrenheit, but Steve’s body temperature ran higher…as did Bucky’s. Thermal images suggested that someone or something falling into the elevated temperature range had taken shelter in the old TyneCorp building. Steve put a giant red X on the map. They’d target that first.

Sam came up behind Steve and peered over his shoulder at the map. “Whatcha got so far?”

Steve pointed first at the projected image, then at the map on the table. “His heat signature is unusual, so we’ve been able to follow him as he moved around today. He keeps returning to this building,” he said, thumping the X with his finger. “If you could set up on the roof of the building here, just to the south, you’d have clear shot at the rear entrance as well as anyone who comes up Blair Road from either direction. Maria will trail me and provide backup. Tony will run surveillance from the SUV.”

“Got it,” said Sam. 

Maria joined them at the table. “I checked the ammunition supply. We have plenty of rounds for the Glocks, so unless we encounter a little surprise or two, we should be good.”

Sam turned toward her. “Just pistols?”

“Four machine guns in midtown seems like overkill,” Maria replied. “We want to bring in the Winter Soldier, not bring down a terrorist regime.”

“If I’m going to play rooftop sniper, I want more than a handgun,” said Sam.

“What about a G36C fitted with an AN/PVS-14 scope? It’s packed with a retractable stand in the brown duffle bag behind you.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. That’ll do.” He leaned in to Steve and whispered, “I love it when a woman talks heavy artillery.”

Steve snorted. “It makes for interesting dinner conversation.” He pointed to the warehouse he’d pointed out to Sam earlier. “What’s the decibel level of the new suit? Any chance of you making a quiet landing here, undetected?”

Sam put his hands on his hips and gave the map another look. “It’s not as noisy as a helicopter, but it’s not exactly stealth. When I fly over, he’ll know it, but if I can come in low on the backside, I can get into position before he can fire a shot off.”

Tony’s laptop suddenly pinged a series of high-pitched alerts. He leaned over to take a look. “Change of plans, kids. Looks we have party crashers.”

Steve frowned. “Hydra agents?”

Tony punched a few buttons on his laptop, and the projected scene changed. Instead of one heat signature in the area, now there were several, and they were moving slowly, but in the direction of the warehouse. “Probably. At least ten, maybe fifteen.”

Steve swore under his breath. “How soon can we be on the road?”

Sam picked up the duffle bag with the G36 and hoisted it onto his back. “Three minutes. Tony put the suit in the SUV.”

Maria tossed Steve a duffle bag full of ammo and heaved another one onto her shoulder. “Two minutes.”

Tony scooped the headsets into a backpack and reached for his laptop.

“No time for that, let’s move!” cried Steve as he turned toward the door.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” asked Tony. “What’s the magic word?”

“NOW,” snapped Steve.

“That’d be the one.”

They raced down the stairs and into the covered parking deck. Tony’s SUV was right by the entrance. 

“Typical black Chevy,” Sam commented as he climbed into the back seat. “I thought you’d have something more interesting.”

Tony cranked the engine. The first strains of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blared from the speakers. “First of all, it’s not black, it’s _midnight_. And second, it’s loaded with all kinds of interesting. Trust me,” he yelled over the music.

He hit a button on the steering wheel and blue lights erupted along the front of the dash. Steve leaned forward to ask about the legality of impersonating an officer of the law, but then thought better of it. If the lights helped them get there faster, fine.

~*~

Twenty minutes later, they pulled off the interstate not far from Blair Road and cut the lights. Tony pulled off onto a side street. When he put the SUV in park, a green button on the dashboard blinked. He pressed it and the entire dash rotated to reveal a row of blinking monitors. “See? Interesting.” A small keyboard folded down from the inner console and he began typing, which pulled up a satellite image on the center monitor. “This is us,” he said, pointing at the center of the screen. “And this is TyneCorp.” The building showed a single bright red dot near the northeast corner. At least ten other orange-red dots formed a wide perimeter of about 100 yards in each direction, and another five green dots littered the area just around the building. Tony tapped one of the green ones. “And these are the agents that your man, Bucky, has already taken out.”

Steve exhaled slowly. “Sam, get to the roof and take out as many as you can on the way there. Then, set up and wait for us. We’ll need some cover if we’re going in.”

“Let’s make it happen, Cap’n,” Sam said with a grin. He strapped into the suit, tucked the Glock into his belt and grabbed the G36. “I’ll let you know when I’m set up.” The wings clicked into place with a flex of his arms, the jetpack roared to life and he soared upward into the night sky.

A few minutes later, the sound of gunshots echoed, bouncing off the buildings around them. “I guess they saw him,” quipped Tony.

Sam’s voice crackled in Steve’s ear. “Took three out on the way in, including the dude waiting for me on the rooftop. Never knew what hit him. The Winter Soldier only fired at me twice. Give me two minutes to get the G36 set up and I’ll be rollin’.”

Tony scanned the monitors again. Three more dots shifted from orange to green as the Hydra agents’ core body temperatures dropped. “Dead, dead and dead. That leaves seven plus Mr. Personality. Not great odds.”

“I’ve had worse,” said Steve, pulling his leather helmet down over his head. Shield in one hand, gun in the other, he looked at Maria, eyes bright. “Let’s go get him.”

~*~

They kept to the shadows, Steve in the lead and Maria following closely behind. Tony’s voice sounded in their earpieces. “Two agents ahead of you, both at 10 o’clock.” 

Maria gave Steve a quick nod, then stepped around the side of the building and doubled back. Steve stepped forward, shield up, and drew the fire of both agents. His first bullet sailed wide right, but the second hit the front agent underneath his chin and he dropped. The other agent returned fire until a bullet from behind took him out. He fell and Maria stepped over him. “Two more down,” she whispered into the headset.

They could see the rear entrance of the TyneCorp building from where they stood, but the wide-open space between them and the doorway was daunting. Steve peered around the corner at the well-lit sidewalk that led to the back door. Nothing but shadows. “Position update?” he breathed into the microphone.

“Three on the roof up and to your left. Two on the far side of TyneCorp. Sam, do you have a shot?”

“Negative. I can’t estimate the position of the roof snipers until they start firing. Steve, you’ll have to make a move.”

Steve glanced at Maria, who gave him a thumbs up. “Moving in 3…2…1…” He ran as hard and fast as he could to the door as bullets rained down around him. Once he hit the shadow of the awning overhang, he stopped and fired back at the shooters on the roof. He appeared to have hit one, who dropped his gun over the side of the building.

Maria took that moment to make her own move. Steve and Sam unleashed a fury of bullets at the opposite rooftop while Maria ran for cover. She slid in the back door just as Sam made a hit of his own. “Another one bites the dust,” he sang. 

“Down to three,” said Tony, “but there’s movement on the edge of the far northern perimeter. Could be more agents. Get in and get out.”

“I’m trying,” Steve said. Turning to Maria, he added, “Shoot anything that comes through that door. Ask questions later. I’m going up to get Bucky.”

The metal stairs just inside the back door went up three flights and opened out onto the roof. A heavy steel door at the top of the flight swung limply from the hinges. Steve quietly crept upward, the footfall of his boots masked by the ricochet of bullets outside. Once he reached the top landing, he placed a hand on the door and inched it open. He held his breath. Nothing. Carefully, he stepped through the opening and halfway onto the roof. The door slammed forcefully against his chest, trapping him between it and the metal doorframe. His shield clattered harmlessly to the ground. A hard, gray glare locked onto him and he inhaled sharply.

The Winter Soldier whose gun was trained on him wasn’t the same one from three weeks ago. The hands that held the rifle trembled ever so slightly. Dark patches hung under his eyes and in the hollow of his cheeks. His dark Kevlar suit hung off of his gaunt frame. He was a mere shadow of who he had been, but still strong enough to put up one hell of a fight. 

Steve wrestled his hands up to the door and gave it a shove, knocking the Winter Soldier off balance. “Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve,” he said, stepping out onto the roof.

“You lied. You said I would be safe, but they’re here to take me back.” The Winter Solider found his footing, pulled back the hammer on his pistol and aimed it squarely at Steve’s head.

“I didn’t lie!” said Steve with desperation. “If you’ll trust me, I can get you out of here. Remember Italy? Behind enemy lines? I got you out then and I will get you out now.”

A look of confusion crossed the Winter Soldier’s face and he took a step out of the shadows. In that instant, two gunshots rang out. The first hit him in the shoulder from behind. The second dug into the back of his neck, just above the Kevlar. He dropped like a load of bricks.

“No!!” Steve rushed forward and crouched over Bucky. The first bullet had embedded itself harmlessly in the body armor. The second wasn’t a bullet at all but what looked to be a tranquilizer dart. Steve yanked it out, broke off the tip of it on the concrete roof and shoved it into his belt. Quickly, he thrust two fingers against Bucky’s neck. A pulse, faint, but it was something. “He’s down!” cried Steve into the microphone. Steve dragged him inside and threw him over his shoulder. “We’re coming to you, Tony!”

Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the rear door flung open and a Hydra agent stepped inside. The feel of cold steel against the side of his forehead made him freeze. “Move and I’ll drop you like second period algebra,” hissed Maria as she cocked the gun. He shifted the gun in his hand ever so slightly, and she pulled the trigger causing an explosion of sound and color. Steve blinked at her as she wiped her bloody hand on her pants. “He shouldn’t have moved.”

“Still two out there,” said Sam. “I got eyes on one.” He fired off another round with the machine gun as Steve ran out into the open. To Steve’s right, a rapid fire of bullets exploded, but he raised his shield, tightened his grip on Bucky and kept moving.

Maria crouched down, braced her left hand under her right and fired off two shots. “Another down,” she said before running after Steve. 

Sam took one more look through the lens before deciding to follow suit. He abandoned the stand and picked up the G36. The new suit required less arm work than the old one, allowing him to fly and shoot more efficiently. Sure enough, once he was airborne, picking off the last agent was easy. Three shots and it was all over.

Tony had the SUV running by the time they all arrived. Steve loaded Bucky’s limp body into the very back and climbed in beside him. “Let’s move!”

“Not yet!” Tony yelled. He lowered the rear window of the SUV as they began to drive off. “Raise your right arm, aim at the warehouse as we drive by and hit the button on your cuff.”

Steve did as he was told, holding his arm out the back of the SUV and pressing the notch on his cuff. A small projectile shot out, flew into the metal siding of the building and attached itself. Tony raised the back glass and hit the accelerator just as a sonic boom ripped through the entire warehouse district. “Not the surprise I was expecting,” Steve remarked.

They peeled out of the side road and hit 85 mph before they ever reached the interstate. Tony glanced over his shoulder. “Straight to the safe house?”

“Yeah,” said Steve, still trying to catch his breath. “Bruce will be there waiting on us.”

Sam swiveled around in the seat and grabbed Steve’s shoulder. “What did I tell you? It all went according to plan.”

Steve gave him a small nod and glanced down at Bucky’s pale face. The extraction plan had been the easy part. The hard part was yet to come.


	5. Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties with Steve's childhood and Bucky's role in it. It shouldn't be too horribly AU.

The safe house sat hidden in a grove of pecan trees at the end of a dirt road in middle-of-nowhere Virginia. It should have taken two hours to reach from DC, but Tony skidded the SUV into the carport in just over one. With a little help from Bruce, who met them at the door, Steve got Bucky inside quickly.

Steve jogged back to the SUV and leaned in the driver’s side window. “Anything I need to know?” he asked Tony.

“Wifi is set up. The pantry is full. Your personal stuff is in the guest room. If you need anything, call and I’ll send Sam over to handle it,” said Tony. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Tony. You’ve been a real friend.” Steve patted Tony’s shoulder.

Tony winked. “You’re getting sentimental in your old age.” He pressed the button to roll up his window and floored the gas pedal. The SUV roared down the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust as the tires hit the dirt road.

“I guess so,” Steve said to himself. 

Once inside, Steve and Bruce struggled to Bucky washed, changed and into the large master bed. The heavy prosthetic arm proved to be the biggest challenge. While Steve arranged Bucky in the bed, Bruce inspected the remains of the Kevlar suit in the study. “I don’t see any tracking chips, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” said Bruce. “I’ll do a more thorough examination in the morning.” He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “3:30 a.m.? Christ, I haven’t been up this late since Tony and I went out in NYC. I think there was whiskey involved. I know there was Jagermeister involved. My liver is still in recovery.”

Steve dropped into the chair next to Bucky’s bed and tugged off his boots. “Take my bed and get some sleep.”

“What about you? Not to be rude, but you look like something the cat dragged in.”

“I’m fine,” Steve replied. “I’m going to stay in here tonight. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“It could be a while before he wakes up, Steve. Days, maybe weeks.”

“I don’t care,” said Steve. “He’s been alone for so long. He needs to know that I’m with him.”

Bruce nodded. “See you tomorrow morning.”

Steve smiled weakly as he closed the bedroom door.

~*~

It had been 48 hours and Bucky was still unresponsive. Steve leaned back in the armchair in the master bedroom and rubbed his forehead. Bruce analyzed the dart that Steve had saved from the rooftop attack. “Mix of Ketamine, Valium and some sort of psychotropic drug…enough to kill anybody else,” he’d said. 

Bucky looked younger, frailer wearing Steve’s old striped pajamas and buried under the blankets. He hadn’t so much as flinched in hours. The stress of doing nothing wore on Steve. He did a lot of things well, but waiting wasn’t one of them.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he let his head fall back against the armchair’s plush fabric. Just a quick nap.

The now familiar sensation of falling headlong into a dream jerked him to awareness. He blinked, then squinted against the harsh florescent lights above him. He stood at one end of a large sterile room, completely empty but for two folding chairs at the other end. In one of them sat Bucky, in the other, the Winter Soldier. Immediately, Steve was on guard. His eyes darted between the two, but neither made a move to stand. He took a small step forward, then another, creeping closer to Bucky’s side. “What’s happening?” Steve asked.

Bucky turned to Steve, his face blank, eyes sad and resigned. “We’re waiting.”

“For what?” Steve glanced over his shoulder, wary of what might be coming.

“To be wiped.” Bucky rubbed his arm with his hand absently. “First come the drugs that make everything fuzzy, then the shock. Then…nothing. I disappear. He takes over.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. He chanced a look at the Winter Soldier and was shocked to see him share Bucky’s defeated look. They were waiting for the whole horrible nightmare to start over again. Steve dropped to one knee at Bucky’s side and looked up into his eyes. “Nothing like that is going to happen. You’re with me. You’re safe.” Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Open your eyes and you’ll see. I’m right by your side.”

Faint hope flickered in Bucky’s eyes. “I won’t go away again?”

“No.” Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hand. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.”

Bucky chewed his bottom lip, then rose to his feet. “Then, I want to come with you.” 

Steve nodded and led Bucky to the doorway. At the last second, he glanced over his shoulder. The Winter Soldier remained seated, motionless, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Will he stay here?”

“I don’t know.” A dark look crossed Bucky’s face which left Steve feeling uneasy.

Steve hesitated, then turned the doorknob. 

He snapped awake and sat straight up in the armchair. In the bed next to him, Bucky stirred. Steve rushed to the bedside and peered down at his friend. “Bucky? It’s me, Steve.”

Bucky blinked awake. His eyes darted around the room and he scooted up in the bed, curling his knees up to his chest. “Where am I?”

“In a Virginia farmhouse. You’re safe.” Steve reached out for Bucky, but pulled his hand back when Bucky flinched away from him. He let his hand drop to his side. “It’s just us. You and me.”

Bucky looked back up at Steve. “I know you. You’re the man in my dreams.”

Steve nodded. “I’m also your friend.”

Bucky’s eyes clouded. 

“It’s okay,” said Steve quickly. “You have all the time in the world to remember, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He reached for a glass and a pitcher of water on the bedside table. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? The pantry and freezer are both full of whatever you want to eat.”

Bucky shook his head. “I just want a shower.”

Steve pointed to a door on the left. “Right through there. I’ll lay some clothes out.”

~*~

Twenty minutes later, Steve sat on the sofa in the den watching a baseball game on mute. Bucky padded in barefoot and damp, wearing sweats and an old T-shirt and looking lost.

“Come sit over here.” Steve patted the cushion next to him.

Bucky shuffled over and eased himself down on the other end of the sofa, as far away from Steve as he could possibly get. He stared blankly at the television.

“I’m watching the Dodgers. They’re ahead by six runs in the top of the 7th inning,” said Steve. “Even though they’re not in Brooklyn anymore, I still follow them. Old habits are hard to break.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“We used to go to Dodgers games together. You and I. We’d sit in the cheap seats and eat hotdogs and yell at the batters,” he added, searching for a reaction from Bucky. Nothing.

Steve fidgeted. His eyes raced around the room until they fell on a collection of scrapbooks. The ladies of the Brooklyn Historical Society had presented him with several homemade scrapbooks after he served as the guest of honor at their fundraiser last year. Quickly, he got up, pulled one from the pile and dropped back down on the sofa. 

“Some ladies I know made this for me. It’s all about the Brooklyn Dodgers.” Steve opened the leather-bound cover and flipped through the first few pages. “Here’s Ebbets Field,” he said, pointing to a yellowed photograph. “I’m not sure what year it was taken.”

Curious, Bucky moved closer and peered down at the photo. Steve carefully turned the page, pointing to various photos labeled with neat handwriting. “Here are some interior shots. The terrace, the third base line, the view from the infield.” Bucky studied each one, entranced.

They slowly went through the entire book of photos, Steve providing comments or anecdotes on each one. On the last page of the book, he tapped a photo of the left field seats with his finger. “We’d always sit in left field. I caught a foul ball once sitting right there, until Eddie Hastings took it away from me.” Steve grinned and shook his head. “And then we all got tossed out for fighting.”

Bucky looked up at Steve. “Did you throw the first punch?”

Steve’s eyebrows rose in delighted surprise. “Yeah! I did!” His heart pounded in his chest. “I had him on the ropes, too, but you helped me finish him off.”

“Your mouth wrote a check your body couldn’t cash,” said Bucky. The corners of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly. 

Steve chuckled. “That’s exactly what you used to tell me.”

He reached over to give Bucky’s left arm a squeeze. His hand closed around the seriated metal of Bucky’s prosthetic arm and he reflexively pulled it back. _Oh, no._

The look of disappointment that flitted across Bucky’s face caused Steve’s heart to clinch. “I…I didn’t mean to,” began Steve, but he fell into silence. What could he say? He looked down at his hands.

“I’m tired,” said Bucky quietly. 

“Sure. I’ll help you back to bed.” Steve closed the scrapbook and made a move to stand.

“No. I want to stay here,” Bucky replied. Before Steve could move, Bucky slid down on the sofa and curled onto his side with his head on Steve’s right leg. 

Steve sat rigid as a statue, afraid to move for fear of doing the wrong thing again. A rush of nostalgia rolled through him. Every Sunday afternoon, Steve would read the comics in the newspaper, while Bucky napped with his head in Steve’s lap. Exactly like this.

After a few minutes, Bucky’s breathing settled into a relaxed rhythm and Steve exhaled slowly. His right leg had already gone to sleep, but he didn’t care. He’d sit there like a lump all day if it meant having Bucky next to him. Boredom, though, quickly became an issue. The Dodgers had the baseball game well in hand, and he couldn’t reach the TV remote anyway. Carefully, he picked up the iPad from the coffee table and began flipping through the preloaded apps. What was a Pinterest?

His stomach growled, which was odd since he’d just eaten a couple of hours prior. He clicked the Pinterest app and a glorious spread of food popped up in a thousand little photos. His stomach rumbled again. All of the food looked delicious. Where to start? _Pancakes._ Steve frowned to himself. Pancakes were sugary carbohydrate bombs that he usually avoided, but suddenly pancakes sounded amazing. He clicked on a photo of cinnamon apple pancakes. Good, but not quite what he wanted. _Banana pancakes. With walnuts._ That was _exactly_ what he wanted. He was a man on a mission, flipping through photos until he found them in all their sweet fruity goodness, dripping with loads of thick maple syrup. His mouth watered. The minute Bucky woke up, he was going to make some.

Bucky stirred restlessly. “Are you okay?” asked Steve. He brushed a dark lock of hair back from Bucky’s forehead. 

Bucky rolled over on his back and looked up at Steve. “I’m hungry. Can we make pancakes? Banana pancakes with walnuts?”

Steve froze, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What did you say?”

“Pancakes,” repeated Bucky as he sat up. “Banana-walnut with maple syrup.”

“Sure, absolutely, yeah,” Steve stammered. “Go look in the pantry for the pancake mix. I’ll be right behind you.”

He watched with growing trepidation as Bucky slowly made his way to the kitchen. Their connection had spread from mental to physical. He’d felt Bucky’s stomach growl as if it were his own, and the craving for pancakes had been overwhelming If Steve could sense Bucky’s hunger, what else could he sense? And what would happen when or if darker memories and impulses took control? Would they control him, too? Steve swallowed hard. He honestly didn’t know.


	6. Unavoidable

“Well, considering everything he’s been through the past ten days, Bucky’s remarkably healthy,” said Bruce. He sat across from Steve at the kitchen table and made some notes on a patient medical chart. “Blood pressure is good. Reflexes excellent. All of the drugs are out of his system. How is his memory?”

“Improving,” said Steve. “The scrapbooks helped a lot and the yearbooks, too. He’s still a little jumpy with loud noises.”

“So am I,” said Bruce with a grin. “Alien invasions will do that to you.” 

“A thunderstorm rolled through last night and I found him underneath his bed, hugging a pillow.”

Bruce tilted his head. “Interesting. How’d you know to go check on him?”

Steve shifted in his chair. “I felt panicky, so much so that it woke me up. It was overwhelming. Frankly, the strength of his emotions scare me.”

“They scare me, too,” said Bruce. “If taking you down with him is Hydra’s end game, then we should all be scared. But I know a thing or two about managing emotions.”

Bruce flipped to a blank sheet in on his medical flipchart and drew two overlapping circles. “If this one is you,” he said, pointing to the right one, “and this one is Bucky, then the space here is the connection.” He colored in the intersection of the circles with his pen. “When one of you pushes, the space extends in either direction. He feels angry or sad, directs it outward and suddenly, you’re caught up in it, too. It means you have to be stronger and reinforce the connection from your end. Don’t let him be the one pushing you. Manage it. Strengthen it. Learn how to manipulate it to your advantage. It’s like weightlifting. The more you use a muscle the stronger it becomes. In fact, I think you should try giving Bucky a mental push.”

“Are you suggesting I practice invading Bucky’s mind? I’m not sure I like that.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not saying push him into oncoming traffic. Push a movie suggestion or a happy thought or a memory. Whatever.” Bruce glanced toward the den where Bucky sat flipping through old school yearbooks on the sofa. “Eventually, the other half of him is going to come back online. You don’t want to be caught off-guard when it happens.”

“I know, but so far so good. We’re still sorting through memories. I had no idea how many websites were dedicated to the Howling Commandos.”

“I’ve read a lot about them. They partied as hard as they fought.”

Steve smiled wryly. “They were good men, but there are stories I could tell you that would make a Marine blush.”

“When this is all over, I’ll take you both out for drinks and you can share some of them with me. I promise not to judge,” said Bruce with a smirk. “Call me if you need me. I’ll check back in a couple of days.”

~*~

The afternoon drifted by lazily on a current of nostalgia. Steve flipped through their senior yearbook as Bucky asked questions about this person and that. He couldn’t place their homeroom teacher, but had no problem remembering the assistant principal who had found the pin-up girl taped to the inside of his locker. Steve turned the next page and there was a large photo Bucky’s smiling face. He’d been voted one of Who’s Who of the senior class. “Best personality, my foot,” said Steve. “They sure didn’t know you like I did.”

Bucky playfully nudged Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t see you listed as best anything.”

“Best at crawling out of trash bins wasn’t on the voting ballot.”

“Where is your photo?”

Steve flipped over several pages and pointed to a picture of a scrawny kid with a cowlick and a crooked tie. “Right here.”

“Huh. You were uglier than I remembered,” said Bucky.

Steve poked him in the ribs. “Well, you’ve always been dumb.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

Bucky gave Steve a lopsided grin. “Can we call each other names later? I think it’s nap time.”

“Sure thing, Buck. It’s your world, I just live in it.” Steve snapped the yearbook shut and put it back on the coffee table.

“And don’t you forget it.” Bucky curled up on his side with his head in Steve’s lap. He was fast asleep in under a minute.

Steve stroked his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It was so long, nearly down to his shoulders. He made a mental note to call Tony later and ask about a trip to the city for a haircut and new clothes. Bucky couldn’t wear Steve’s old sweatpants forever.

The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds and covered the coffee table with silvery streaks. It was warm on Steve’s toes and he wiggled them contentedly. Careful not to disturb Bucky, he reached for his iPod and popped in his earbuds. Sam had recommended some jazz, and he scrolled through the selections until he found it. Perfect. The whole moment was perfect. He smiled and let his mind wander. Bucky shifted on his lap and snuggled back against him. His smile widened. For the first time in a long time he was happy, really happy. The feeling covered him like a warm blanket on a cool evening and he let it settle around him. 

_Push a happy thought_ Bruce had said. He certainly couldn’t get much happier than he was right now. Steve let his contentment fill him to overflowing and gently pushed it outward. 

At some point, Steve dozed off, but he woke up when Bucky rolled over and stretched. “Nice nap?” Steve asked as he pulled out his earbuds.

Bucky sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. That may be the best nap I ever had.”

“Oh?”

“I feel incredible.” Bucky grinned and leaned against Steve so their arms touched.

This time when he felt the metal against his skin, Steve didn’t flinch. He put his hand on Bucky’s wrist. It was warmer than he expected. He traced a metal groove with his fingertips. “Can you feel that?”

“Sort of. I can feel pressure but I can’t tell what it is. If it’s soft and warm or cold and sharp is a mystery until I look down.” Bucky flexed his fingers a few times. “Sometimes I forget my hand isn’t real.”

Steve slid his hand down and entwined his fingers with Bucky’s. “It feels pretty real to me.”

Their eyes met. Bucky’s sweet smile sent Steve’s heart an unexpected jolt. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve cleared his throat, gave Bucky’s hand a squeeze and nodded toward the kitchen. “I need to make a quick call. See if anything is on TV.”

“Okay. Hey! History Channel has something about the making of plywood.”

The part about a phone call was a blatant lie, but Steve needed an excuse to collect his thoughts. His attempt to push Bucky a happy thought had been successful, but he’d taken it farther than he had intended. He leaned against the kitchen counter and let his head fall forward until it gently bumped against an upper cabinet. What was he doing? All those old, familiar feelings began a slow upward crawl from the pit of his stomach. He shoved them back down.

 _Get a grip_ , he said to himself. 

“What are you doing in there? You’re missing the segment on corrugated cardboard,” called Bucky.

“Coming!” Steve took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Bucky needed a friend and that’s what he’d get.

~*~

At 2:25 a.m., Steve jolted awake. Something was wrong. A high-pitched whine came from somewhere outside his bedroom window. Immediately, training kicked into high gear. He crouched low and crept out to the den, careful not to make a sound. A small blue light blinked on the laptop monitor, indicating that something had breached the security perimeter on the southwest edge of the property line. Steve swore under his breath. He found the loaded pistol in the desk drawer, disengaged the safety and eased out the back door. 

The roofline kept the rear of the house in shadow, so he pressed against the wooden siding and peered around the corner. A metal drone hovered in mid-air next to Bucky’s bedroom window. Steve took aim and fired the gun, unleashing several rounds of bullets. Two of them hit the propulsion engine on the back, but the rest bounced off the outer armor.

“That’s not how you take down a drone,” said a voice behind him. Steve whirled around to find Bucky at his back, his Captain America shield in hand. 

Bucky threw the shield like a Frisbee, hitting the drone and knocking it out of the air. It crashed to the ground in pieces. Bucky ran to where the largest piece lay, made a fist with his metal arm and smashed what was left of the drone into tiny fragments. Satisfied, he stood up and brushed his hands on his pajama bottoms. “That’s how you take down a drone.”

Steve leaned back against the edge of the house to catch his breath. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe anymore.”

Bucky stared up at the night sky. “We’re fine for tonight. If Hydra wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”

“Then, what was that about?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “A message. They’re going to bring me in.”

~*~  
By mid-morning, the farmhouse was vacant. Steve and Bucky loaded everything they could into the back of Sam’s Jeep and left the rest. 

“Y’all can stay with me,” Sam offered as he pulled into the parking lot of Stark Industries. 

“Thanks, Sam, but we need to be somewhere more secure,” Steve said. He grabbed a bag containing what was left of the drone from the Jeep and slammed the door. “Tony can probably set us up in here for tonight.”

“Okay, but you’re passing up my special Chicken a la Sam and all the Diet Coke you can drink.”

Steve laughed. “Thanks, but I think we’ll manage.”

Down in the basement workshop, Tony spread out the fragments of the drone on a long table while Maria cataloged the make and origin of each part on her tablet. He held up a lens from what had been a small camera. “Probably Korean,” he said. “But most of the other parts are Eastern European.”

Steve, Sam and Bucky joined Tony around the table. “I don’t see anything that looks like an explosive or a firing mechanism,” said Steve.

“It wasn’t weaponized,” said Tony. “Surveillance only. Dropped it in to confirm your location.”

Steve rubbed his forehead. “They’re going to keep coming and coming until we find a way to take them out. We have to do something.”

“You, Sam, Maria and the Six Million Dollar Man with machine guns and a sketchy plan? Good luck with that,” said Tony. He tossed the camera lens back in the pile of parts. “What you need are soldiers.”

“If you know where we can find some, I’m all ears. S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists, and I’m fresh out of options.” 

Maria glanced up from her tablet. “Um…that’s not entirely true.” 

“Fury’s back? Then, what was the point of his dramatic exit?” asked Steve with a note of skepticism.

“No, Fury’s off somewhere doing something,” Maria said. She laid her tablet on the table and pursed her lips. “He turned the task of rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. over to someone else. Phil Coulson.”

“Coulson’s alive?!” Steve’s eyebrows rose in stunned disbelief. 

“Fanboy is running S.H.I.E.L.D.?! Holy shit,” exclaimed Tony.

Steve stuck a finger right in the middle of Tony’s chest. “That’s out of line. Coulson’s a good agent.”

Tony looked down at Steve’s finger and brushed it away with an irritated flick of his wrist. “Did you forget he admitted that he watched you sleep while you were in stasis? That’s one step away from a restraining order.”

Steve dropped his hand. “You have a point.”

“He watched you sleep?” Bucky’s brow creased with displeasure.

“Long story,” Steve replied. He tapped the table with his fingers. “Call him and ask him to bring backup. We need everyone we can get.”

Maria pulled out her cellphone. “I’m on it.”

“We’ve got to formulate a plan of action, but I don’t even know where to start,” said Steve with a grimace.

“I do.” Bucky stepped forward, eyes clear and determined. “I know where the Hydra DC headquarters is located and I can get us inside.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re telling a man who just destroyed an unmanned drone with his bare hands that he can’t handle a little danger?” Tony arched an eyebrow. 

“It’s not that,” Steve began. “It’s…complicated.”

Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. “I know I’m not 100% yet, but if you want to stop Hydra, I’m the best chance you have. Probably the only chance you have.”

Steve exhaled slowly. “You’re right.” He pointed to Tony and Sam. “Fire up the monitors. Pull up the satellite surveillance maps and help Bucky pinpoint the best location to strike. We’ll make our move tomorrow night.”

~*~

Everyone called it a night after a long day of strategic planning. Bucky was crashing on the sofa in Maria’s office, Steve on the sofa in Tony’s office. It made sense from a security standpoint for them to stay in the Stark building. As Tony put it, “If I can’t keep my own building secure, the Pentagon is going to want a refund.”

Steve settled his things into Tony's office and tried to get comfortable on the leather sofa. Laughter at the other end of the hallway piqued his interest. Curious, he stuck his head out the door. Bucky leaned against the door frame of Maria's office, flashing that rakish smile he'd used to charm women ever since Steve could remember. Maria flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed. Memories of Bucky twirling pretty girl after pretty girl round the dance floor while he had stood against the wall, lonely, hit Steve like a sucker punch to the gut. He saw red.

"I was coming to see if you needed anything, but it looks like you've got things under control," said Steve as he purposefully strode length of the hallway.

Maria gave Steve a knowing look. "I was just leaving. Sleep tight, you two." 

Bucky watched her go, his eyes lingering on her retreating form a longer than Steve liked. "She's really nice," Bucky noted. 

"Try to wait until after the Hydra mission is over to make your move." Steve's jaw clenched as he spoke.

"What?" Bucky frowned, confused. "I only said she was nice."

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind. Try to get some sleep."

"No, Steve." Bucky stepped forward. "If you have something to say to me, say it."

"I have nothing to say. You're a grown man. Do what you want."

"Fine, then run away like you used to do."

"I've never run away from anything!" Steve squared his shoulders. 

"Except me, you mean." Bucky glared at him. "Every day you searched for something to prove, for a fight to pick, for an argument to start...anything that came along. You spent all your time running and I spent all my time chasing after you."

Steve's jaw dropped. "That's not true! You always had a girl. Every time I turned around, you found a new one. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. You went through 'em. They got all your attention and I got the leftovers."

Bucky closed the distance between them and grabbed Steve's t-shirt with both his hands. "I did date a lot of girls, but I never had a real girlfriend. You know why, Steve?"

Steve's eyes blazed, but he said nothing.

"Because none of them were you!" Bucky released Steve with a shove and slammed the door to Maria's office behind him.

The hallway was silent save the thundering sound of Steve's heart. He rubbed the side of his face with his palm, trying to process Bucky's reaction. Slowly, he shuffled back to Tony's office.

"Wow. That was entertaining." Tony stood behind his desk, swished whisky around a glass tumbler and raised it in Steve's direction.

"I thought you went home," Steve replied, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Insomnia. Pepper won't let me tinker at home, so here I am. Just came for this," he said wiggling his glass, "and then I'm back down to the workshop."

Steve sank to the sofa, dropping his head into his hands.

"So, that... thing between you and Bucky. Do I need to book you a room?"

"There is not a _thing_ with Bucky and me."

"The way you look at each other, the touches, the smiles. There's a thing. Everyone knows. We've all seen it."

Steve looked up at Tony. "Everyone?"

"Thor called. He saw it from Asgard." Tony plopped down onto the sofa next to Steve. "It's cool, though. Just work it out before tomorrow night."

"He blindsided me. I never imagined..." Steve's voice trailed off. … _That he felt the same way._

"Well, now you know." Tony took a long sip from his glass. “Look, I don’t know or care what sort of relationship you two have.”

“It’s not like that,” Steve interrupted.

“This is me still not caring,” said Tony, “but I am going to say something and I want you to listen.”

Steve folded his arms over his chest and waited.

“People talk all the time about love as an emotion, a feeling, but it’s not. Love is a verb. It’s something you do. Loving someone is handing them your heart every single day, knowing that in one instant everything could be taken away from you. Sure, I could walk away from Pepper and save both her and myself a lot of heartache, but that’s the coward’s way out. A brave man chooses to love another person, even if it destroys him.” 

“I just want to protect Bucky.”

“You can’t,” said Tony, matter of fact. “Bad things are going to happen, like cancer or alien invasions or Hydra. Don’t let the fear of what might happen overshadow what’s right in front of you.” Tony shook his head. “Dear God, I sound like Dr. Phil.”

“Yeah, you kind of do,” admitted Steve.

“On that note, I’m out.” Tony stood and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle with his free hand. “Get some sleep. We need you firing on all cylinders tomorrow, Cap.”

The plan was a longshot at best, and even with Bucky’s knowledge of the Hydra headquarters, there were multiple ways the whole thing could unravel. Now was not the time for sentimentality; it was time for action. If there was a _thing_ between him and Bucky, it would have to wait. Steve took a deep breath and recalibrated his focus. “I’ll be ready.”


	7. Uncontrollable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for "Marvel:Agents of Shield," especially Tahiti. Phil Coulson and Melinda May both make brief appearances.

Steve knew it would be difficult to infiltrate a Hydra facility, especially since Hydra had thrown down the proverbial gauntlet by launching the surveillance drone. There would be no element of surprise. Hydra knew they’d be coming. He desperately needed to find an edge.

Tony manipulated a series of projected virtual 3-D renderings of the building Bucky identified as the headquarters, not far from Arlington. “There are two main points of entry, south and east, each requiring retinal scan identification. Fortunately, I can dupe the scans.”

Behind him, Steve, Sam and Maria studied the images as Tony worked through them.

“Multiple camera feeds both on the building and mounted to the street lights outside can be temporarily jammed. It’s the inside of the building that’s dicey. We have only Bucky’s sketchy memories to guide us to the laboratory since there aren’t any building plans on file with the city.”

Steve put his hands on his hips. “If we could get some accurate information beforehand about the layout of the building, it would help.”

“If it’s information you need, I know a guy.” Phil Coulson strolled into the basement work room, removed his mirrored sunglasses and stuck them in his suit pocket. 

“Agent Coulson, or should I call you Director Coulson?” asked Steve, holding out his hand. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

Phil smiled broadly and shook the offered hand. “Phil is fine. It’s an honor, Captain. I’m glad I can be of service.”

“Phil!” Tony clapped him on the back. “You look great for a reanimated corpse.”

“Thank you… I think. It’s good to see you again, Mr. Stark. By the way, we still need to schedule a debriefing about the Extremis incident.”

“I pissed off a lunatic, got stuck in Tennessee, and blew up a bunch of stuff. Pepper is fine, except for a little twitch above her eye when I bring up giant plush rabbits. How’s that?” Tony turned back to the 3-D images.

Steve stepped in front of Phil. “You said you had some information about the facility. What can you share?”

“I have an agent on the inside. I sent her in early this morning disguised as a South Korean government official interested in hi-tech surveillance.”

Steve frowned. “Just one agent? Are you sure that’s enough?”

“Quite sure. She’s the most highly skilled agent I know. Melinda May. She’s meeting with upper level management, then taking a tour of the facility. A tracking device is embedded in her shoe, so as she walks, she’s mapping out every inch of the building. It’s uploading to the S.H.I.E.L.D. servers as we speak.”

“Good. Show me what you have so far,” said Steve.

Tony’s cellphone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket. “It’s Pepper. I need to dash upstairs and suit up the Terminator. Back in a few.”

Phil gave Steve a quizzical look, but Steve just shrugged. “It’s usually better if you don’t ask.”

They huddled over Phil’s laptop and watched as the software reconstructed the main floor layout of the building. “Incredible,” said Steve.

“Soon, the entire building will be mapped and we can launch the offensive.”

“Not without more soldiers,” Steve said.

“Don’t worry. There are fifteen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents upstairs, each of whom I have personally chosen. The best of the best.”

“Hi, Phil,” said Maria as she crossed the room to join them. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

“Thank you. It’s been a bit of a challenge so far, but I thrive under pressure.”

“That’s what I told Director Fury when we discussed you as a possibility for his successor.”

Phil cocked his head. “I wasn’t aware you were part of the selection process.”

“Gaging your viability as a candidate was part of my last mission,” Maria replied. 

“And what was the other part?” 

“Some things happen on a need-to-know basis. You of all people should know that.”

“Like Tahiti?” Phil asked sardonically.

“Among other things.” Maria locked eyes with him. “You can’t possibly think that you’re Fury’s only special project.”

Steve’s eyes shifted uncomfortably back and forth between the two of them. “I hear Tahiti is beautiful this time of the year,” he offered.

“It’s a magical place,” Phil said with a forced smile.

“Hey, kids, no fighting during recess.” Tony walked up to Steve and steered him toward the door. “There’s someone who wants to see you.”

Bucky stepped through the doorway and stood at attention, hand raised in full salute. “Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes reporting for duty.” 

Steve’s breath caught in his chest. The jolt of seeing a clean-cut Bucky dressed in a near replica of his Howling Commandos uniform struck him right at his core. He was speechless.

“He cleans up pretty well for an old guy,” Tony said.

Steve blinked and tried to find his voice. “At ease, soldier,” he said after a long pause.

Bucky chuckled. “I wondered if you’d make me stand at attention forever.” He beamed and gave his new uniform a once over. “I can’t believe you guys found one of these old things lying around.”

“That would be a new thing, actually,” Tony said. “Bulletproof, fireproof, and hopefully Hydra-proof, but that part hasn’t been field tested.”

Steve straightened the collar on Bucky’s dark blue jacket. His fingers ran over the folded edges of the lapel and traced the curve of a brass button. “It’s like I stepped back in time,” he marveled. 

“Almost,” said Bucky, quietly. His eyes were the color of storm clouds. Steve looked away.

“Cap, you should probably see this,” called Phil. 

Steve and Bucky joined the others at the workstation. Tony projected Phil’s display onto the opposite wall. “It appears we have the building entirely mapped, with the exception of this section of the basement,” Phil said, tapping the bottom left corner of the map. 

Bucky eyed the map. “That’s where the lab is located. It makes sense that your agent wouldn’t have toured it.”

“Planning is over. Time for action,” said Steve. “Sam, you and Maria take the south entrance. Bucky and I will take the east. Tony will provide ground support, Phil will direct the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from the air. We’ll rendezvous with Agent May inside. Moving in ten.”

~*~

Tony pulled the SUV over on a side street about two blocks away from Hydra headquarters. The late afternoon sun still hung above the horizon, a fact that Steve didn’t like, but if Agent May lingered in the building much past normal work hours, Hydra would grow suspicious. Somewhere in the air above them, Phil hovered in a helicopter, the agents having already been deployed.

Sam held up a disarmingly realistic replica of Bucky’s eyeball in a plastic baggie. “You sure this is going to work?”

“If my design is correct, and it always is, then yes,” said Tony. 

Steve glanced at his watch. “It’s time. On my mark, we move.” He looked at each team member in turn, then began the countdown. “In three…two…one!”

Tony hit a button on his dashboard laptop and jammed the live feed from the cameras, giving them two minutes to reach the entrances and engage the retinal scanners. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents waited for them, crouched behind trees and shrubs and the surrounding buildings.

Sam and Maria reached the south entrance first. Sam held the eyeball to the laser scanner. “Here’s looking at you.” The lock slid open with a metallic click. Maria gave the signal and eight heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents raced in through the open door. “We’re in,” whispered Sam into his headset mic. He pulled his goggles down from his forehead and pressed a button on the side. A semi-transparent overlay map of the building locked into place. The small lobby in which they stood was deserted. The soldiers paired off and fanned out to cover the main floor. Maria and Sam ran for the stairwell. Gunshots rang out behind them before they could reach it. 

Sam crouched in a doorway. “Shit!” He dared a glance around the edge and was greeted with a flying bullet. “Where is that coming from?”

Maria hit the ground, rolled over onto her back and fired two shots just as the Hydra agent stepped into the hallway. He went down with a heavy thud. “My guess would be from him,” she replied. She scrambled to her feet and flattened herself against the wall. The sharp reverberation of gunshots sounded a couple of corridors down. Maria glanced at her watch. “We’ve been inside for three minutes. Under normal circumstances, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents can sweep a building in under five minutes.” Another explosion of bullets erupted, closer this time. “But these aren’t normal circumstances.”

A soldier wearing black body armor rounded the corner. Sam raised his gun, but hesitated. “How do I know if he’s Hydra?” 

At the sound of Sam’s voice, the soldier’s gun swiveled around. Maria fired off a shot that hit him squarely in the forehead. “If he fires at us, he’s Hydra. Shoot first, apologize later.”

“Point made.” Sam stepped over the fallen agents and jerked open the door to the stairwell. Silent as a tomb. Sam cautiously stepped inside, gun raised in front of him. A flurry of bullets rose up from the landing below. “No guesswork needed this time.” He nodded at Maria. “Go. I’ll cover you.”

Maria raced down the stairs as Sam returned fire, hitting one Hydra agent and sending another ducking for cover. “Go!” she called.

Sam followed suit, taking the stairs as quickly as he could while Maria fired off a flurry of bullets. One Hydra agent stood between them and the doorway to the basement. Sam aimed on the run. His first bullet sailed wide and left a savage indention in the metal door. The second bullet hit the agent squarely in the chest. The impact knocked the guard backward into the door. His hand brushed the doorknob. An arc of white-blue electricity engulfed his hand and raced through his body. He was dead before he hit the floor. 

The smell of burned flesh filled the stairwell. Maria buried her nose in her sleeve. A smoking blackened wire dangled from the door frame. She kicked the door open and stepped over the charred body. “Which way to the lab?”

Sam focused on the map superimposed over his field of vision. “Left, then all the way at the end.” 

The hallway was eerily quiet. “I don’t like this,” Maria hissed.

“Six doorways between here and there. Six different places to get ambushed.” Sam dropped his empty clip in the hallway and slid a full one into the chamber with a click. “Ladies first.”

Maria smirked. “Such a gentleman.”

Sam grinned. “My mama taught me well.”

They crept down the hallway staying as close as they could to the wall, expecting a door to open at any moment and release a swarm of agents. A heavy thud from above them broke the silence. “I hope that was one of them,” said Sam.

Step by agonizing step they stole the length of the hallway until they at last crouched before the double doors to the lab. “On three,” mouthed Maria. She counted down with her fingers and they burst into the room together.

~*~

Steve and Bucky reached the east entrance at nearly the same time. Bucky engaged the scanner, then held open the heavy metal door as another seven agents ran inside. “You guys sweep the upper floors,” said Steve. “We’ll find the lab.”

The east entrance opened to a long narrow hallway. The stairwell was halfway down on the right. Bucky led the way, gun at the ready. They crept along quietly until a door at the far end of the hall opened.

“Gentlemen, thank you for your time. It’s been a productive day.” A petite Asian woman, fortyish, in a suit and heels stepped out, followed by four businessmen.

“Yes, it has, Dr. Rhee,” said the tallest of the four men. “I’ll escort you out.”

Steve moved quickly, shield up. “Back in the room, everyone.”

One of the men pulled out his cellphone and made a move to run. Suddenly the Asian woman came alive, moving with startling speed. She kicked the phone out of his hand, then grabbed him by the throat. “Back in the room,” she hissed. Her tone left no room for argument. The businessmen quickly retreated, closing the door behind them. Bucky ripped off the doorknob, locking them inside.

“Agent May?” Steve sized her up. She didn’t look like a typical agent.

“At your service.” She reached under her chin and yanked off the mask that had covered her face and most of her neck and threw it on the floor, revealing a much younger woman. “We don’t have much time. Most of the top floors are vacant, but they’ve assembled a large group of soldiers down in the basement.”

“A welcome party?” Bucky asked.

“Something like that.” She pulled a pistol from a holster under her suit jacket and disengaged the safety.

“Swell. I love a good party.” Bucky ran to the stairwell and flung the door open wide. Two Hydra agents were waiting on the first landing, three more on the second. 

Guns fired from every direction. In the narrow stairwell, the sound was deafening. The acrid smell of gunpowder burned Steve’s nose, but he kept moving. The first two Hydra agents went down quickly. The three on the lower landing proved tougher to hit. 

Without warning, Agent May vaulted over the stair railings and landed on top of one of the Hydra agents. She wrapped both hands round his neck and gave it a hard twist. He fell limply to the floor. 

Steve took down the other two with his shield while Bucky went for the door to the basement. “The lab is this way,” said Bucky, as the fingers of his prosthetic arm reached for the door handle.

In that instant, Steve noticed a thin wire running from the ceiling along the frame of the metal door. “Wait, Bucky,” he called. “Don’t touch it!”

A hard jolt of electricity rocketed up through Bucky’s metal arm and knocked him off his feet. A blue curl of smoke drifted upward from the door handle. Steve rushed to his side and cradled Bucky’s head in his hands. The click of a gun caused Steve’s head to snap around.

Agent May stood with her gun trained on Bucky. “The shock wiped him. He’s been reset.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“I don’t have to know that.” Her eyes fastened on Bucky’s prone body. “My orders are to ensure the integrity of the mission and eliminate threats. The Winter Soldier is a threat.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Stand down, Agent May.”

“I don’t take my orders from you.” She tightened her grip on the gun.

Steve rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. “Stand. Down.” His fingers gripped the shield so hard they ached. Of all the ways the mission could go wrong, this was one Steve hadn’t considered.

Phil’s voice sounded in May’s ear. “You heard Cap. Stand down.”

“But sir,” she began.

“Let it play out. Find the lab for now, and reassess the situation later.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a scowl. She brushed past Steve and yanked open the door. The dead electrical wire swayed harmlessly above it as she exited.

Steve dropped his shield, knelt next to Bucky and placed a gloved hand on his cheek. “Wake up, Bucky. I need you.” Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, then opened as he slowly sat up. Steve felt weak with relief. “Thank God.”

The gray eyes turned steely. Cold metal closed around Steve’s throat and slammed him against the stairwell wall. “Where am I?” asked a monotone voice.

Steve clawed at the hand that gripped his throat. “Hydra headquarters,” he gasped. “It’s our mission to destroy the laboratory.”

“No. You’re my mission.” He squeezed tighter.

Plumes of anger and rage invaded Steve’s mind, storming in uninvited. Bucky meant to kill him. He couldn’t breathe. The edges of his vision darkened. His only chance was to take back control of their connection. Steve closed his eyes and released all of the tender emotions he’d so carefully kept in check. They welled up from the depths of his heart and spilled over, consuming him. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “You always have been.”

The billowing rage dissipated like smoke in the wind. Bucky released Steve and scrambled backward in wide-eyed shock. “I know you.”

Steve leaned back against the wall and drew in a ragged breath. “Yeah, you do. I’m your best friend.”

Gradually, the storm behind Bucky’s gray eyes calmed, his face softened. “Steve.” Bucky slumped backward as the fog in his mind rolled away. “You’re Steve,” he repeated, more confident this time.

“And you’re Bucky.” Steve climbed to his feet and held out his hand. “And we have a laboratory to destroy.”

Bucky nodded and let Steve help him up. “What just happened?”

“A minor blip on the radar,” Steve said. He opened the stairwell door and peered around the corner. “Coast is clear.”

The basement corridor echoed with each step they took. Steve’s pulse quickened. Hadn’t Agent May said the Hydra soldiers would be waiting for them down here? He glanced back over his shoulder. Nothing. Not even a shadow.

At the other end of the hallway, Bucky paused in front of a set of double doors. “It’s in here,” he said.

A burst of anger bloomed in Steve’s chest. Bucky seemed to feel it, too, and their eyes met. “Let’s blast ‘em,” he said through gritted teeth.

They burst through the door together, guns out, ready to attack. 

“Hey, hey!” cried Sam raising his hands in the air. “Take it down a notch. The lab is secured.”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a surprised glance, then took a look around the room. At least twenty Hydra agents stood spread-eagle against right wall. Armed S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers trained their guns on them, ready to fire if anyone so much as twitched.

“We decided not to wait for you,” said Maria. “I’ve already radioed Phil. He’s bringing the chopper around to take the prisoners.”

“I have absolutely no problem with that decision,” Steve replied. He turned toward Bucky, but pulled up short.

Bucky’s eyes were glued to the medical exam chair in the center of the room. Leather restraints hung from the arms and back. A large mechanical halo dangled from a levered arm above it. On the right side, a control panel flashed red and yellow. He stared, frozen.

Agent May quietly appeared next to Steve. “Is everything under control?” Her eyes flicked over to where Bucky stood, then back to Steve.

Steve gave her a glare icy enough to freeze molten lava. “Yes. And tell Coulson I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”

“He doubts your ability to be completely objective when it comes to Sergeant Barnes. Honestly, so do I.” She returned Steve’s glare with one of her own. “I was prepared to do what needed to be done, even if you weren’t.” Without another word, she strode quickly to where the Hydra agents stood lined up against the wall, grabbed one by the elbow, and wrangled him out the door.

Bucky still remained rooted in place, unblinking, his hands fisted at his sides. Steve laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” said Bucky, “once I tear the place apart.” His voice shook with barely controlled fury.

“Tony wanted you to have this.” He held up a small dart with an electric blue tip. “He said it’s called ‘Last Night’s Pizza’.”

Bucky tore his eyes away from the chair. “I don’t understand.”

“Guaranteed to cause heartburn,” Steve clarified as he held out the dart. “You should be the one to serve it up.”

Maria and Sam escorted the last of the prisoners out of the room while Bucky turned the dart over in his hands. “I want to watch it go up in flames,” he said darkly.

Wordlessly, Steve handed Bucky his shield and left, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t blame Bucky for wanting to witness the explosion. He’d want to see it through, too.

Bucky reared back and threw the dart with enough force to puncture the chair’s steel frame. The moment of impact created an explosion of fire and shockwave of sound that blew Bucky back against the wall. He held the shield in front of his face as shards of glass and twisted metal flew toward him. When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the chair was a smoldering pile of ash.

Steve met him in the hallway. “It’s over,” he said as he gave Bucky’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“No, it’s not. It’ll never really be over,” Bucky said with quiet resignation.

As Steve regarded Bucky’s somber face, he remembered Tony’s unsolicited advice. “We can’t let the fear of what might happen paralyze us. We have to start living again.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a wry smile. “I’m not sure I know how to anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Steve reached for Bucky’s hand. “Together.”


	8. Unbelievable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this part of the story. Because of some summer commitments, I didn't want it hanging out there unfinished. The next part of the tale will be in a new story set a few weeks later. All the stories will be linked under the Unknown arc and I'll try to make sure they're hyperlinked in the notes as well.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading along and I hope you'll continue reading when the next story goes up in a few weeks. :)

Steve tossed his duffle bag into the trunk of the red and white roadster and slammed it closed. It wasn’t the car he would have chosen, but it’s what Tony offered to lend him. Maybe a convertible wouldn’t be so bad for a trip to the beach, wind in his hair, sun on his face. He glanced at his watch. If they left now, they could reach the coast before midnight.

The night breeze had a cool bite, and Steve wished he hadn’t packed his jacket. He toyed with the idea of digging it out of his bag when Bucky and Sam finally strolled out into the parking lot to join him.

“Thanks for everything, Sam,” said Bucky. “I owe you.”

Sam shook Bucky’s hand warmly. “No problem. Least I can do for a fellow veteran.” 

Bucky squinted at Steve. “Are you ready?”

Steve tossed Bucky the keys. “Yeah. Warm up the car.” 

“Where are you guys headed?” asked Sam.

“Not sure yet. East, to the coast then wherever the road takes us,” said Steve with a shrug. “Anywhere but here.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re leaving for good.”

“No, nothing like that. I need to get away for a while. Take a break from the action.”

“Just…stay in touch, okay?” 

Steve chuckled. “Ditch my best friend? No way. I’ll be back here running laps around you in no time.”

“Don’t let Bucky hear you say that,” teased Sam. “I’m pretty sure you’re his BFF.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the roadster where Bucky sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the stereo. “He’s more than that.” 

“I thought so.” Sam grinned and opened his arms. “Bring it in, brother.” 

Steve wrapped him up in a big hug. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.”

“I should record that and set it as my ringtone,” said Sam.

Steve climbed into the driver’s side of the car and fastened his seatbelt. “We need to hit the road. It’ll take three hours of driving to reach the coast.”

Sam frowned. “It should only take two and a half.”

Bucky leaned over and gave Sam a knowing look. “Not if you’re only going 54 mph,” he said. “I might die of old age before we get there.”

“Traffic rules are in place for a reason,” Steve chided. “It makes the roads safer for everyone.”

Sam laughed. “Maybe you should let Bucky drive.”

“Not a chance!” called Steve as they pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward the main road.

“Where exactly are we going?” asked Bucky.

“Ocean City for tonight. It’s the closest beach from here. After that, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bucky settled back against the seat and stared at the road ahead. “So. About today.”

Steve braced himself. He’d hoped they could at least reach the interstate before they started in with the hard conversations. “What about today?”

“Well, there are lots of things about today we could discuss. The weather, the price of tea in China, the fact that I tried to kill you...”

“That wasn’t you, Bucky.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I was there.”

Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I’m dangerous. What if something triggers a break with my consciousness again and I fall back into being the Winter Soldier?”

“I’ll be there to stop it, just like I was today.”

Bucky shifted to face Steve. “You can’t be with me every second of every day.”

“Why not?”

Bucky looked incredulous. “Because you have friends and a life.”

“You’ve met my friends, all three of them, and my life…” Steve shook his head. “I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. It’s not like I have a job. Saving the world from aliens and demi-gods doesn’t pay the bills. Now that S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone, the Avengers Initiative is probably over, too. What else do I have to do besides keep you out of trouble?”

“Gee, Steve, I don’t know. Find a girl, get married, start a family. Live the American dream.”

Steve sighed. “Things have changed. Girls today don’t want to settle down, or at least, not with someone like me. I’m too old fashioned.”

“I don’t buy that line of bull. You’re Captain America. Girls flip their wigs the minute you walk in the door.”

“Sure,” Steve admitted, “but finding a date is different than finding a girlfriend. Once I’ve covered the usual getting to know you questions, I struggle to find anything to talk about. Pop culture references sail over my head. They have no idea who Glenn Miller was. I have more meaningful conversations with the eighty year old ladies of the Brooklyn Historical Society than I do with most of my dates.”

Bucky chewed on his lip. “I hadn’t thought about that before. How can someone not know about Glenn Miller?”

“Beats me.” Steve cut his eyes at Bucky. “What’s with the sudden change of attitude? Outside Maria’s office you said, well, something different.” Steve felt his cheeks flush.

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “I remember what I said, but after everything that happened today, I wondered if I was being selfish. I don’t have the right to ask you to stay with me if it means you missing out on a family of your own.”

“You aren’t asking me to stay. I’m choosing to stay,” said Steve. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Bucky gave him a lopsided grin, one that made Steve’s heart flip. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

~*~

It was late by the time they reached the coast. Bucky had passed out about an hour earlier and now slumped against the seat snoring softly. Steve eased the car into the parking lot of a beachfront chain hotel. Surely a hotel that large had an open room.

The girl behind the desk looked tired, but she perked up when Captain America walked in through the revolving door. She smoothed the lapel on her jacket, straightened her nametag and practically bubbled with excitement. “Good evening, sir. Will you be checking in?”

“Yes, ma’am, for one night.” He pulled out a credit card and slid it toward her. “Put me in the best available.”

“One king bed or two queen beds?” 

Steve hesitated and glanced out at the car where Bucky still napped. “One king bed,” he blurted out, hoping he hadn’t just made a huge mistake. 

She tapped a few keys on the computer and swiped the credit card. “I have you in a king suite on the 15th floor. Will there be anything else you need tonight?” She peered up at him with hopeful eyes.

Steve smiled. “No, thank you.”

“If you think of anything,” she said, with a flirty wink, “just call. I’m here all night.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” he replied, though in reality, he wasn’t sure of that at all.

~*~

As it turned out, the best available room was incredible. A plush sitting room opened into a luxurious bedroom with a balcony off the rear overlooking the beach.

Steve marched into the room, squared his shoulders in feigned confidence and dropped his bag at the foot of the bed. “This is the best room they had,” he said, “but if you want your own bed, I can go back down to the front desk and request a double.” He held his breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Dear God in heaven, what had he been thinking? One bed? 

Bucky eyed the bed, then shrugged as if it were no big deal. “No, I like this room.” He walked around to the other side of it and plopped his bag down. “Not that I plan on seeing much of it. I’m exhausted.” Steve exhaled with pure relief.

While Bucky changed and washed up, Steve took a ginger ale out of the mini-fridge and wandered out to the balcony. Moonlight danced over the top of the cresting waves and painted the entire beach with a silvery glow. He leaned against the balcony rail and watched the ebb and flow of the surf. The rhythm was hypnotic, pierced only by the sharp cry of a lone seagull. Steve watched its dark silhouette float across the starlit sky. Slowly, he began to relax. Deep breaths, in and out in time with the waves. Everything would be fine. No reason to panic.

“Hey. Want some company?” Bucky padded out onto the balcony in just his pajama bottoms. 

“Sure.” Steve immediately panicked. His heart ka-thumped so hard in his chest that he feared his knees might buckle. The hand that clutched the ginger ale trembled ever so slightly. He gripped the railing for support.

Bucky grabbed the ginger ale from Steve’s hand and took a small sip. “Ah, now this tastes exactly how I remember.”

“That’s why I like it.” He stole the can back before Bucky could take another sip. “And it’s mine, you moocher.”

“You’re really going to make me walk all the way back in there and get my own?” asked Bucky as he snatched the can back again.

“No, you can have it.” Steve rested his forearms on the balcony rail and laced his fingers together. It was no different from their usual banter, but Steve couldn’t concentrate. His mind raced from one wildly inappropriate thought to another, like how nice Bucky’s hair might smell and how he wanted to bury his nose in it and find out.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky took another gulp and put the half-empty can on the table behind them. “You usually put up more of a fight when I steal your food.”

Steve gave Bucky a small smile. “Yeah. I need to unwind.” That was true. He was a bundle of raw nerves that desperately needed unwinding. “Everything is fine.” That, however, was not true.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Bucky propped his elbows on the railing, so close that their arms touched. “You can’t even look me in the eye.”

Steve was afraid to look at him at all. What sort of dating rules applied to pursuing your best friend? He hadn’t the first clue about where to start. Clearly, he was supposed to do something other than stand there like a lump. Bucky was right next to him, half-naked and invading his personal space, but he felt paralyzed and awkward. He raked a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing,” he admitted.

“Doing about what?” Bucky nudged Steve’s shoulder with his own. “We’re drinking ginger ale on a balcony. I didn’t know we needed a strategic plan for that.”

Steve stepped back, exasperated, and threw his hands in the air. “I give up. Nothing is going like I wanted it to.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky grinned up at him. “Everything’s great. The room, the view, they’re both ace. C’mere.” He patted the rail next to him and lifted his arm for Steve to slide underneath it. He draped it loosely over Steve’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” muttered Steve, flustered. “It’s been a stressful couple of days.” 

“A stressful month.” He ran his hand casually up and down the length of Steve’s back.

Steve shuddered and closed his eyes. The warmth of Bucky’s hand felt wonderful. Nobody had touched him like that since…well, he couldn’t remember when. When he dared a one-eyed peek at Bucky, his friend wore a bemused grin. Steve swallowed hard. “You have no idea.”

“I think I might have a bit of an idea,” Bucky said “I was the primary source of stress, after all.” His fingertips dragged slowly up Steve’s spine, tracing the curve of his back.

“Mmm. That’s nice.” Goosebumps rose in the wake of Bucky’s light touch. 

Bucky chuckled and moved behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. “I’ve got all night.”

Steve groaned and let his head fall to the side. “I’m going to be worthless tomorrow morning if you keep this up. Catch me if I pass out.”

“I’m not going to let you pass out,” Bucky murmured against the curve of Steve’s ear.

A hard shiver raced down Steve’s spine. Warm lips nuzzled the nape of his neck. He felt the heat from it all the way to his toes. Fingers teased under the hem of his T-shirt, sliding underneath it, inching their way up the planes of his back. He shivered again.

“Cold?” whispered Bucky against the edge of his ear. His arms wound round Steve’s waist and pulled him backward against his chest. 

“No,” breathed Steve in reply. He was on fire, the first sparks of desire flaring in his chest. 

“Then why are you shivering?” Bucky’s breath was hot on his cheek. 

Steve burned for him. “You,” he breathed. “Because of you.” In an instant, he was pushed against the wall of the balcony, hands sliding up his muscled torso, along chiseled arms, over broad shoulders, behind his neck. He blinked and stared into eyes as dark as the night sky above him. 

Their mouths melted in a warm kiss, soft at first, silky and sweet, but that wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Breathlessly, their lips met again, and Steve felt himself ignite. He locked his arms round Bucky’s waist and pulled him closer and when Bucky rolled his hips against him in response, Steve nearly lost his mind.

“Let’s take this inside,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips. 

Steve struggled to catch his breath. “Now, I’m glad I got one bed instead of two.”

Bucky laughed, hooked a finger through Steve’s belt loop and dragged him inside. “I’m definitely pleased with your decision.” 

“I’m thrilled you approve.” Steve yanked his shirt overhead and fumbled with his jeans. By the time he worked his way out of his boxer shorts, Bucky had the bed unmade and lay right in the middle of it. Steve stopped short as the reality of what they were about to do sank in. “I didn’t bring anything to…you know…condoms…”

“Will you stop obsessing and get your ass over here?” Bucky peeled off his pajama bottoms and threw them right at Steve’s head. 

Steve ducked and the pajama bottoms landed in a crumple on the floor. “You still can’t hit the broad side of a barn.” He grinned and dove on top of Bucky, sending them both tumbling to the other end of the bed. 

Bucky rolled them both over so he lay on top, nestled between Steve’s splayed thighs. “Maybe not, but I got what I aimed for.” His hand eased between their bodies, moving lower and lower until Steve bucked hard against him. “Let’s do what feels good,” he said, dipping his head to nuzzle Steve’s neck. “We can try the complicated stuff another time.”

Any leftover anxiety fled hand-in-hand with Steve’s inhibitions. He grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss, their mouths crushing together eagerly. Hands were everywhere, teasing, stroking, exploring. Fingers closed around Steve’s hardening length and he writhed in delight. Bucky’s mouth soon followed, his wicked tongue sending Steve headlong over the edge. 

A few minutes later, Steve lay panting and satiated in Bucky’s arms. 

“So, what do you think?” Bucky asked as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s damp forehead.

“What do I think?” Steve rolled on top of Bucky and pinned him to the mattress. “I think I want to do it again.”

~*~

Maria’s cell phone rang just as she pulled into her driveway. The number on her caller ID had a 000 area code and she grimaced. It could only be one person. “This is Maria.”

“Status report?” asked a deep male voice.

“Better than expected,” she said. “The D.C. Hydra laboratory is out of play. Twenty Hydra guards and five top level executives are in custody.”

“Excellent. What happened to the good doctor and his merry band of scientists?”

“They left the lab before we arrived, but we expected that.” She leaned her head back against the car seat and closed her eyes. “I have somebody working on it. We’ve tracked them to Brazil.”

“Did the Winter Soldier make an appearance?”

“Briefly, but Steve got him back under control.”

“Brilliant work bringing Dr. Banner in to help Steve focus, Hill.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And Coulson? How is he?”

“The same, but he’s going to dig into the Tahiti project until he finds something you probably don’t want him to. He’s like a dog after a bone.”

“Keep an eye on him. If he displays any unusual traits, call me immediately.”

Maria frowned. “Unusual, how?”

“You’ll know it when you see it. Continue to monitor both him and Sergeant Barnes and keep me updated.”

She turned the car off and slid the key out of the ignition. “So, do I assume Phoenix is a go?”

The voice on the other end of the line hesitated. “No, not yet. I want to see what cards Hydra lays on the table before I tip my hand. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, sir,” said Maria. The phone went dead.

~*~

Nick Fury dropped his phone back in his pocket and leaned back in the wooden chair on the patio of a small cafe. The Buenos Aires neighborhood of Recoleta bustled with activity as the dinner hour approached. He swirled the malbec around his glass and took a deep sniff. Delicious. With a smile, he raised his glass to his lips. 

“Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes.”


End file.
